Love Letter
by Kaede-tama
Summary: Matthew likes Arthur, who likes Alfred, who likes Matthew. One day, Arthur writes a love letter and gives it to the wrong boy. Then things go downhill, really, really fast. UK/Can/US, Gakuen!AU
1. Chapter 1: If I Had You

**Love Letter**

**Ch. 1: If I Had You  
><strong>

Matthew Williams sighed, perhaps a bit melodramatically, and slumped forward, resting his cheek against the palm of his right hand. Behind his glasses, bright indigo eyes watched the back of a certain Englishman. There were only three of them in the classroom so far(him, Alfred, and Arthur; the teacher went to get some coffee), but Matthew was sure that Arthur was indifferent towards them.

Lips now forming into a small frown, Matthew slumped down further into his seat and doodled on a piece of looseleaf. He drew some maple leafs and wrote Arthur's name in loopy, girly handwriting on purpose. Then he drew a heart around it.

Why was his life so full of teenage angst? Oh, the joys of high school. (Sarcasm intended.)

Of all people that he could like, it had to be Arthur Kirkland. Matthew was even past the point of being affronted by those eyebrows, which was quite amazing.

"Hello! Matt!" Alfred's voice ripped into his thoughts. "You're not listening to me anymore!"

Matthew turned to glare half-heartedly at his best friend. "It's pretty much a onesided conversation, Al," he told him.

Alfred made a face of mock hurt. "Gosh, Mattie, that hurt." He pouted. Then his short attention span allowed him to change the topic abruptly, trying to peer over the other boy's arm. "What're you drawing?" he asked.

By that point, at least half of the paper was full of hearts and Arthur's initials in them. Matthew replied to him, "Nothing."

**. . .**

Alfred F. Jones was sad. Okay, that's not the most original sentence, but it was pretty accurate to how he was feeling. "Let me see it anyway," the American insisted, pushing Matthew's arm aside and grabbing the paper. After inspecting it, he laughed. "Haha! Mattie, you've got it bad!"

Not that he was one to talk. Alfred had been in love with Matthew since seventh grade. But he digressed. Matthew was in love with that bushy-eyebrowed posh Arthur. And seeing said boy's name written all over the paper in lovey-dovey handwriting definitely did _not_ make him jealous.

Matthew was pouting. Rather cutely, Alfred thought. "Don't say a word," the smaller boy huffed. "Or I'll drown you in maple syrup."

"As long as I drown with you in my arms, I'd be all right with it," Alfred told him, flashing a winning smile. It was the truth.

Matthew stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head. "You're weird," he mumbled. His eyes strayed to the front again. _Probably staring at Arthur,_ Alfred thought petulantly. He knew it was mean, but he hoped that Arthur would never like Matthew back. Alfred was a possessive bitch like that.

"Oh, crap!" he groaned out loud. "I'll be right back, I forgot something." Alfred raced out of the classroom, shoving past students coming in to get to his locker.

(He hated to admit that he just didn't want to see his crush make goo goo eyes at another boy.)

**. . .**

Arthur Kirkland put his pen down, picking his letter up and scanning it critically. It read:

_I know that we don't talk much, but I have figured that it's time I should tell you that I like you. I think you're brilliant despite what others say, and I could get lost in your gaze for eternity. Granted, this is not the best confession in the world, but I sincerely hope that you return my feelings._

He didn't bother with a greeting nor a signature. He got up, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. He turned to the back, where he knew that _he _was sitting and walked over slowly, head held high, trying to keep his composure.

When Alfred saw him coming, he hastily hid something under his desk. Arthur decided to ignore the action and placed the note on the other's desk. "Read it, please," he told him.

Alfred eyed him warily, and Arthur couldn't help but feel that something was a little off. He brushed it off, thinking it was only his jittering nerves. He watched Alfred read the note.

Arthur cleared his throat a moment later. "So?" he asked. His heart was beating loudly in his ears.

Alfred looked up at him, and instead of meeting blue eyes, he found himself staring into indigo colored orbs. The eye contact lasted for only a few seconds, though, for Alfred literally jumped out of his seat and hugged the flustered Englishman.

"I'm so glad," Alfred whispered against his shoulder. Arthur let out a sigh of relief and chuckled, hugging him back.

"Mattie! Can you help me with-" The voice stopped abruptly. Arthur loosened his arms around Alfred and turned to see who it was.

Standing there, holding a forgotten unfinished English essay, was...Alfred?

Bewildered, Arthur looked down to see who he was holding.

_Now_ he could see a little more clearly. This boy's hair was a little longer, more wavier, and a shade lighter. His eyes were indeed indigo, bright with happiness. Arthur racked his brain for a name, and finally, he remembered. Matthew Williams.

And then Arthur realized what he'd done.

He'd given the note to the wrong person.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So this idea's been in my head for a while, and I decided to finally write it. Plus, I was having trouble deciding where I liked UKCan or USCan better, and then I was, like, "Why not have UK/Can/US?" Thus, this was born. I'm not sure how this is going to end yet, but I'm thinking UKCan for now.

Also, the other chapters will be longer. This chapter was sort of a prologue. ^^

Um... Your opinions, please?


	2. Chapter 2: Dirty Little Secret

**Ch. 2: Dirty Little Secret  
><strong>

Arthur was at a loss for words, eyes flickering back and forth between Alfred and Matthew. _You've messed up, big time_, a voice chimed in his head, which almost sounded like Alfred. "I...um..." He wondered where the heck his eloquence went. Finally, he met Alfred's glare evenly and snapped, "What are you staring at?" His cheeks formed a slight blush.

"Well, of course I'm going to stare when I find Mattie in the arms of a bushy-eyebrowed monster." Alfred's glare intensified, if that was possible.

Arthur bristled. It was obvious that Alfred felt at least a bit of something for Matthew, and even though Arthur knew it wasn't his fault, he got a little angry. So he said, "I was simply confessing my affections for Matthew."

"The last time I checked, you didn't remember his name half the time," Alfred said.

"Please don't fight," a soft voice pleaded before Arthur could retort with something snide. He realized that he was still holding Matthew, and let him go a little too suddenly.

"He's blackmailing you, isn't he!" Alfred accused, pointing a finger in Arthur's direction. The loud outburst attracted several stares from their classmates.

Matthew looked resigned. "No, Al, I promise," he told him. "I'll explain everything, all right?" His eyes shone brightly.

Alfred put an arm around his friend protectively. Arthur felt a dull ache in his chest at the action. "Actually," he began. He was prepared to tell the truth, to stop things before they snowballed into something disastrous, but then the bell rang, cutting him off.

Shyly, Matthew smiled at him. "I'll see you at lunch?" he offered meekly.

Figuring that he could explain things then, Arthur nodded. "It's a date," he said, and couldn't help but smirk just slightly, hoping to omit at least another ounce of jealousy from Alfred.

Matthew blushed - Arthur had to admit that it was quite endearing - and gathered his book in his arms. "I-I'll see you," he said. Shooting the Englishman one last smile, he practically ran out of the classroom. Arthur was the last to leave the room, lingering behind thoughtfully. He caught sight of a piece of paper underneath Matthew's desk and picked it up.

His initials were on it, surrounded by numerous hearts. Had Matthew done this?

"Bollocks," Arthur muttered under his breath as he left the classroom. He forgot that Matthew liked him(practically everyone knew this since eighth grade). Oh, shite. It was definitely going to make explaining a _whole_ lot harder.

He was thankful that he didn't have any of his morning classes with Matthew. Truth be told, he hadn't ever dated anyone before, and didn't know how to act, even if his and Matthew's relationship was technically fake. However, he had first period world history with Alfred. Even worse, he happened to sit right behind him.

"Look," Alfred said at the beginning of class, turning in his seat, "I don't care what your motives are, but I don't like you."

_But I like you_, Arthur thought, and felt another ache in his chest. He kept quiet.

"If you hurt Matthew, emotionally or physically," Alfred continued, "I will hurt you twice as much." Arthur had never seen such anger in those blue eyes before. "Understand?"

But if there was anything that Arthur was exceptionally good at, it was hiding his emotions. "Do you really think that low of me?" he scoffed. "I love Matthew and would never even dream of hurting him." He emphasized the word 'love.'

The anger in Alfred's eyes subsided, replaced with hurt. Arthur felt a small sense of accomplishment. "If you're done interrogating me," he said, rather boredly, "the teacher is asking about what you already know about the Austria-Hungary Compromise."

Alfred's cheeks turned a slight hue of pink as he hastily turned around. He realized that the class had heard practically their whole conversation. "No, ma'am," he told her, abashed.

Arthur leaned back in his seat, satisfied.

**. . .**

"You're dating Arthur?" It was Lars van Rijn who spoke Matthew during second period. Matthew didn't notice him at first, too focused on doing his work, until Lars poked his side.

"E-Eh?" The verbal tic slipped out before he could stop himself. That resulted in a slightly frustrated blush across his face.

Lars looked over at Matthew's paper, which was already filled with answers. He started scribbling some notes down on his own to make it look like they were working together.

Matthew saw what he was doing but decided against protesting. "We're not dating, we're..." He tried to find a good description of his and Arthur's relationship right now. "...eating lunch together," he finished lamely.

Lars snorted. "How romantic," he drawled.

"It's Arthur." Matthew gave a small smile. "He might not be as romantic as Francis, but he is in his own way. And I like it."

"That's nice," Lars said monotonously.

"Isn't it?" Matthew replied, and Lars wasn't sure whether he was serious or not. "But how did you know about me and Arthur, anyway?" He peered up at him curiously.

"During first period, he and Arthur were arguing for nearly ten minutes straight," Lars answered. "I happened to be sitting next to them, so I heard pretty much everything."

Matthew arched an eyebrow. "What were they talking about?" he asked, feeling a bit sheepish at his own eagerness to know.

Lars shrugged. "Something about how Arthur loves you, unimportant things like that," he said, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

"Lars!" Matthew whined. "That's important! Very important! Tell me what he said!"

"I think I've told you enough," Lars said cryptically. "Now turn your paper over, I'm done copying from that side."

**. . .**

Their school cafeteria was rather large, and since there weren't many students to start with, all of them had lunch at the same time. On the first day of school, Alfred had dragged Matthew to one of the tables in the back, claiming that it was a good place to spy on people. Matthew called him creepy and told him that no one would sit with them now. He was right, with the exception of Lars coming once in a while. Three people wasn't a lot, but crowds tended to make Matthew feel faint anyway.

Alfred eyed Matthew critically as the Canadian squirmed anxiously in his seat. "He's just sitting with us, it's nothing to be nervous about," he told him. He leaned across the table and poked Matthew in the forehead. "Chill."

Matthew glared at him, but it dissolved quickly. "I'm going to get water," he said decisively.

"Oh, look who's being a big boy, getting his own water," Alfred teased.

"Don't get lost in the line," Lars, who'd decided to sit with them that day, added.

"Shut it." Matthew stuck his tongue out at Alfred. Alfred responded by sticking his own tongue out and leaning forward for effect. Matthew, not one to back down from a challenge issued by Alfred, leaned closer as well.

They didn't realize their compromising position until someone cleared their throat and said, "Am I arriving at a bad time?"

Matthew snapped back into his seat like a rubber band, blushing furiously as Arthur took the seat next to him. "I was getting water," he said weakly.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him dubiously.

"Well, I was going to, but Alfred..." He gave up, pouting.

"I have an extra bottle," Arthur said, placing a water bottle on the other's tray. "I'm not thirsty anyhow."

Matthew accepted it, his blush growing more prominent. "Thank you," he squeaked.

"That was so sweet, I can almost taste the diabetes," Alfred piped up sarcastically. Lars elbowed him painfully in the side for that. Alfred elbowed him back.

"Well, judging by your current state of being, diabetes was bound to happen soon," Arthur said smoothly. He regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth. He knew Alfred was sensitive about his weight.

The table was silent. Then Alfred stood up suddenly and left the cafeteria, leaving his tray behind.

Matthew stood up a few seconds after. "You guys..." he muttered.

"I'll talk to him," Lars cut in. He glanced at Arthur, then Matthew. "You stay here." With that, Matthew watching him pick up his tray, dump it, then walk out of the cafeteria after Alfred.

Matthew sat there looking so dejected that Arthur didn't have the heart to tell him about the note. Instead he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him to his side. "That was my fault. I'll apologize as soon as possible," he murmured into his hair. _The sooner I do, the faster I can explain this whole situation_, he thought.

Matthew sniffled. "Thanks, Arthur..."

"No problem, love," Arthur said.

Another few days of pretending couldn't possibly hurt, right?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Arthur's so tsundere towards Alfred. I'm not a big fan of USUK, but it does pain me to make these two fight. ;_; Thank you to everyone who left a review for the last chapter! I met so many fellow fans of UKCan. OuO

Lastly, excuse the chapter title. I couldn't help it. XD


	3. Chapter 3: Touchdown Turnaround

**Ch. 3: Touchdown Turnaround**

Matthew pulled on the strings of his hoodie anxiously. He glanced to his left at the open window. Alfred lived next door, and their bedrooms were parallel to each other's. Every morning, Alfred's window would be opened and they'd talk as they got ready for school, calling back and forth. That morning, the American's windows were closed and the curtains were drawn.

With a sigh, Matthew slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and walked over to the window. "Al?" he said. Not receiving an answer, he plucked a small pebble from a fake plant that sat on the sill and threw it. Their windows were not more than ten feet away from each other, and Matthew had good aim. The pebble hit its mark.

Almost immediately, the curtains were swiped aside, and Alfred pushed his window open. "What?" he demanded irately.

Matthew was stunned; he hadn't expected Alfred to actually open his window. "I..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say next. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't sleep in."

Alfred shut the window and drew the curtains again. Matthew stared dumbly at it for a few seconds, before rolling his eyes slightly and leaving his house. Alfred was waiting for him on the sidewalk.

They started walking without another word, headed towards the school that was half a mile away.

"For a second back there, I thought you were going to say something sentimental," Alfred finally muttered sulkily.

"Did you want me to?" Matthew asked.

Alfred gave him a sidelong glance. "Humor me," he said, sounding hopeful.

Figuring it couldn't hurt, Matthew conceded. "Alfred," he said in the most dramatic voice he could muster. He even got down on one knee. "You're awesome the way you are, and you're not fat, not even close to getting diabetes."

Alfred chuckled. "Loving the view from up here, Mattie," he quipped.

Matthew hit his leg half-heartedly. "You're a jerk," he said. "I thought you were actually sad. Now my pants are dirty."

Suddenly, Alfred went rigid. He beckoned Matthew with a finger.

Matthew stood up and leaned closer.

Then Alfred murmured, "That's what she said." And before Matthew could hit him, he cackled and ran ahead.

Matthew ran after him, yelling, "Alfred, you hoser!"

**. . .**

"Hello, Matthew." Arthur's smooth(and sexy, Matthew thought), British accented voice reached Matthew's ears and the boy immediately sat up in his chair.

"Hi, Arthur," he said, silently commending himself for sounding so calm.

Arthur sat on the surface of the desk, careful not to sit on a piece of paper that the other was apparently writing on. "More hearts with my name in them?" he inquired with a lilting smirk on his face.

"You saw that?" Matthew squeaked, blushing. "And no, I'm doing some last minute homework." He looked down guiltily.

And Arthur had to admit that the boy was...cute. "If you say so," he couldn't help but say. "Also," he cleared his throat before continuing, "have you spoken to Alfred?"

Matthew nodded. "He's okay," he said happily. "Though, you said some really mean things to him yesterday..."

"I know," Arthur admitted with a sigh. "An apology is due in order, I suppose. Where is he, anyway?"

"Sometimes Al helps out in the cafeteria," Matthew answered. "I guess he decided to this morning." Then he smiled up at Arthur, indigo eyes shining. "Thank you, Arthur..." he murmured unexpectedly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What for, love?" he asked, surprised.

"Well," Matthew began, slowly getting flustered again(he did always get embarrassed easily), "I've liked you since elementary school. I... I always told myself that I'd tell you someday. Then I heard a rumor that you liked Alfred, and I completely chickened out." He paused, meeting Arthur's eyes. "But then...yesterday... I just never thought you'd like me back," he finished with a small smile.

"It happened, didn't it?" Arthur mused. "Though I have something to tell you, Matthew, about that note I gave you."

The bell rang.

Matthew stood up, gathering his things. "What is it?" he queried.

"That note..." Arthur hesitated. Matthew was standing there, looking so happy, and a few seconds ago he'd thanked him for returning his feelings. "It wasn't my best," Arthur finally said. "I could write you something so sentimental, you'd cry."

Laughing, Matthew walked with him out of their homeroom. "Is that so, Arthur?" he asked, teasing slightly.

"Are you doubting my abilities?" Arthur said haughtily, playing along.

"You'll have to prove it to me someday." Matthew smiled, before leaning over and kissing the Englishman's cheek. "I'll see you at lunch." With that, he practically ran down the hall to his classroom.

Arthur touched his cheek where Matthew had kissed him. Then he chuckled softly, turning to go to his next class.

**. . .**

"I'm so happy for you, _Matthieu_," Francis Bonnefoy greeted joyfully when his cousin entered first period science. He deliberately took a seat next to Matthew, eager for details.

"How do you know?" Matthew asked, confused. It had only been a day, hadn't it?

Francis shrugged. "News spreads fast, _mon chou_," he said, as if that explained everything. "Now, tell me who it is you are dating."

Matthew shot him a weird look. "Did you just call me a cabbage?" he said. When Francis ignored his question, he rolled his eyes and answered, "Arthur."

"What about that incompetent Englishman?" Francis asked, looking oblivious.

Oh, he's not going to be happy, Matthew thought. He briefly considered trying to lie, but went against it. Francis wouldn't have a heart attack or anything. "I'm dating Arthur Kirkland," he repeated clearly.

There was a thump as Francis fainted.

On a second thought, maybe he did.

**. . .**

Arthur was the first one to arrive to his first period class. He stared at the empty desk in front of him, waiting for Alfred to come in. The students trickled in one by one, but Alfred didn't appear.

"Where is Alfred?" Arthur asked a tall Dutch boy next to him.

"How would I know?" was the flippant answer.

"You're such great help," Arthur muttered sarcastically.

**. . .**

"Alfred!" Matthew chirped when the other blond took a seat next to him in the cafeteria. "Arthur says you weren't in first period," he said, taking a bite out of his cookie.

Alfred set his tray down, though not before flashing a wary look at Arthur. "A batch of cookies started a small fire in the oven, so I stayed and helped clean up," he replied. "It got me out of first period, too, which was totally sweet."

Matthew bumped his shoulder. "You can be such a softie when you try," he said.

"They were old ladies, Matt," Alfred said. "Of course I had to help them."

"You keep telling yourself that."

They ate lunch with minimal chatter. Arthur and Alfred almost never spoke directly to each other, choosing to talk to Matthew instead. Finally, near the end of the lunch period, Arthur stood up and said, "This is getting ridiculous."

Alfred snorted.

"Matthew," Arthur said, looking around. "Why don't you go talk to...Gilbert?" He spied the albino on the table to their right.

Matthew understood Arthur's true intentions, stood, and shuffled over to Gilbert. "Oh, hey kid!" Arthur heard Gilbert exclaim.

"Hello," Matthew said quietly.

"Wanna see my awesome five meters?"

"Um...sure?" Matthew let himself be led out of the cafeteria by a grinning Gilbert.

"All right," Arthur said in a no-nonsense tone. He turned to face Alfred. "I'm sorry for speaking rudely to you yesterday," he said, going straight to the point.

Alfred ignored him, not looking up from his French fries.

Starting to get irritated, Arthur decided to try a new approach. "Why are you against me?" he snapped. "What have I ever done to make you so bitter-"

"You stole him," Alfred interrupted.

Arthur stopped, a frown etched on his face.

"That's what you did," Alfred continued coldly. "I love Matthew, and you stole him."

Arthur watched him leave the cafeteria, trying to ignore the sense of guilt that was rising within him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And the drama begins~! Unfortunately, someone's heart's gonna get broken soon. ;P


	4. Chapter 4: Misery

**Ch. 4: Misery  
><strong>

"It was absolutely _horrifying_," Matthew told Arthur solemnly as they walked towards Matthew's home. "I wasn't sure what he meant by his 'five meters,' so I followed him. I got a little suspicious when he led me to the bathroom. But Alfred came in before anything else weird happened, thank goodness." He shuddered, recounting the memories of that earlier afternoon.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it _is_ Gilbert, after all," he said, rather fondly.

"True," Matthew agreed. "I suppose I just wasn't expecting him to suddenly drop his pants in front of me."

"I apologize, it was partly my fault," Arthur said. "I should have sent you to someone more decent."

Matthew smiled. "It did liven things up a little," he said. Then, he cast a look at the other blond walking several feet in front of them. "In a way, it was worth the scarring." Up ahead, Alfred's pace seemed to quicken. Matthew wondered if he could hear their conversation and lowered his voice. "I mean, you...apologized to him, right?" His eyes flitted over to Arthur uncertainly.

"I told him that I was sorry for being rude," Arthur replied. "But then he-" He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm not going to lie, Matthew. He told me he hated me."

A look of panic came over Matthew's face. "O-Oh, I'm so sorry! On his behalf!" he exclaimed. "Al can be like that sometimes, though I don't know why he would hate you."

"It's all right," Arthur said, subconsciously wrapping an assuring arm around the other boy. Matthew didn't seem to lighten up. Arthur frowned, finding the troubled expression on the boy unfitting. He's meant to look happy, Arthur thought for an inexplicable reason. "But casting aside the current topic, I'm positive that neither of us really ate any lunch due to that...situation. Therefore, I propose that we go to this brilliant diner and eat."

Matthew's face flushed at the thought of eating lunch with Arthur. Would that be considered as a date? If so, wouldn't this be his first date? "But I have homework, and Al's still mad, and...and..."

"Really, Matthew, there's more to life than schoolwork," Arthur said, smirking(like he used to when he went through a punk phase - something he'd rather forget). And he added, "Besides, now that we're together, I should start taking you out, correct?"

The blush stained on Matthew's cheeks darkened. He wasn't used to so much attention at a time. "You don't have to, Arthur," he uttered. "I know you have more important things to do-"

"Right now, nothing's more important thank making you smile," Arthur said simply.

And he began to lead Matthew to the aforementioned diner, opposite in direction of a certain American watching them.

**. . .**

"It smells good here," Matthew said at the very moment they stepped inside the diner. He slapped his mouth the moment the words tumbled out, embarrassed that he said such a silly thing.

Arthur shot him an amused look, but didn't laugh for the sake of not embarrassing the other any further. "What do you want to eat?" he queried once they sat down in a booth near the back.

A waiter was with them a few minutes later. The male looked to be about their age - Matthew wondered if they went to the same school. He had wild blond hair, blue eyes, and had an arrogant grin on his face. "Ready to order?" he asked. On his shirt, there was a nametag that read, _"Matthias."_

Arthur nodded, Matthew picked up one of the menus, scanning the simple list of foods. One of them immediately caught his eye. "Pancakes!" he told Arthur.

"Two plates of pancakes, please," Arthur told Matthias, finding that he didn't mind having breakfast for lunch. "Some tea for me, and..." He looked to Matthew.

"I'd like some tea, too." Matthew was hesitant to add, "And can you put maple syrup in mine?"

Matthias looked puzzled, but jotted it down on a black notepad that Matthew hadn't noticed before. "Is that all?" he lazily asked.

"That's all," Arthur said.

Matthias gave a short nod before disappearing back behind the front counter.

"Truth be told," Arthur began, "I was planning to invite you to my house instead, but with my brother and less than desirable cooking skills, I figured that this diner would be a better choice."

He was going to take me to his house? Matthew felt slightly giddy at the mere thought. "I'm sure your cooking isn't that bad."

Arthur's eyes danced with mirth. "If you say so," he said. He made a mental note to never cook for Matthew in the future. The poor boy could do without any food poisoning.

Their food arrived about fifteen minutes later. Two plates were steaming pancakes were set down in front of them, followed by two cups of tea. "And your...maple tea," Matthias said, rattling off the names of each food as he set them down. He cast a humorous glance at Matthew. "So, cutie, after this, do you want to-"

"Scram," Arthur hissed before he could finish.

Matthias frowned, obviously displeased, but left nonetheless. He had someone else to bother anyway.

"Thanks for that," Matthew said sheepishly. "My pushover tendencies would have probably made me say yes to him." Unfortunately, he knew it was the truth.

"Anytime," Arthur said with a little smile. "Though now you owe me." He winked at Matthew.

"O-Of course," Matthew stammered, busily pushing his glasses back up his nose. He grabbed his fork and, avoiding Arthur's eyes, began eating his syrup-doused pancake.

**. . .**

Matthew was still not quite used to the fact that he was in a relationship with Arthur. That was why, on their way back from the diner(Arthur had offered to walk him home), when Arthur intertwined their hands, Matthew nearly fainted.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked in concern, seeing the dazed expression on Matthew's face.

"I'm fine," the Canadian said. "Just that I'm not used to this much attention," he admitted.

"That's unfortunate." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully. Surely Matthew hadn't been so neglected as a child? "Well, I hope you're not doing anything after school tomorrow," he said conversationally. "There's going to be a carnival, and I'm taking you." He might not like Matthew like _that_, but he did care about the boy.

"The carnival?" Matthew's eyes widened. "I've always wanted to go to one."

Arthur's face twisted into a look of confusion. "You've never been to a carnival?" he asked seriously.

"Never." Matthew laughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry, now you must think that I'm some weird, depraved kid who-"

"I'm not," Arthur interrupted. He smiled widely. "I'm thinking that I should start spoiling you."

Matthew giggled, stopping mid-step to turn to Arthur with his own shy smile. "Thank you," he said softly, indigo orbs sincere. "For lunch, for walking me home, and for being the best thing that's happened to me in a while." Suddenly, he hugged Arthur tightly.

"Y-You're welcome," Arthur said, a bit surprised and unsure of how to answer. It didn't help that the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," Matthew said, sounding bashful. He tilted his head up and dropped a quick peck on Arthur's lips, short and sweet. Then he turned and ran to the direction of his house.

The guilt flared inside Arthur, and he didn't think he'd ever been so guilty before in his life. Still, he watched after Matthew's retreating back, and couldn't help but smile.

**. . .**

"Where were you?" Alfred called across the gap when he heard Matthew's door open and close.

Matthew appeared at the window with a soft smirk. "Were you staring into my bedroom for the past three hours like a creep?" he countered, though Alfred noticed that his cheeks were pink.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault that you left your window open," he said, holding his hands out as if to say, "I couldn't help it." "But seriously, dude, if you wanted to hang out with Eyebrows, you could've just told me."

"He has a name, Al," Matthew said, speaking loudly as he moved to the other side of his room to his closet. "And yes, I was. What gave it away?" He slipped his hoodie over his head and threw it somewhere. (Contrary to what most people believed, his room wasn't the neatest.)

There was a brief silence. "Dude, are you stripping in there?" Alfred finally asked.

Matthew reappeared in his view wearing a loose red t-shirt. "No," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You totally were," Alfred said. "Next time, let me watch." He grinned, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Matthew looked weary, leaning his arms against the windowsill. "Don't joke around so much about that," he muttered, though loud enough for Alfred to hear him. "I can't tell when you're being serious."

"I'm serious all the time," Alfred said, tilting his head innocently. "I love you, Mattie."

Matthew nodded slowly once. "...Right," he mumbled.

An awkward silence fell over the two. Alfred cleared his throat after a while and began, "Matthew, I-" He was cut off by the sound of Matthew's mother call for dinner.

"I'm not hungry!" Matthew called back. When his mother didn't reply, he sighed. "I'm going to have to go downstairs. I'll talk to you later?" he told Alfred. When Alfred nodded, Matthew shot him another apologetic look before closing his window and drawing the curtains.

Alfred stared at the closed window for a few moments. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, seeing that it was Matthew.

_"What were you going to say?_" it read.

Alfred texted back, _"Nothing, forget about it."_

Matthew already had a boyfriend anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I found out that it's slightly hard for me to write UKCan. Or, Arthur, at least. Whenever I write him, I feel the urge to use big words and long sentences...

Anyways, I just want to let everyone know that my updates are going to be sporadic. I'm going to say that updates will be in 2-3 day intervals. Mostly because I'm having a ton of fun writing this. Also, I'm curious as to what everyone's opinions on what pairing this should end in. UKCan? USCan? Any pairing's pretty possible at this point, and personally I haven't decided yet, either. So, I'd like your opinion. ^^

Oh, and thank you for reviewing~! :)


	5. Chapter 5: Know Your Enemy

**Ch. 5: Know Your Enemy**_  
><em>

_Unblinking, emotionless eyes hovered above him. The male was too close for comfort, alcohol-laced breaths hot against the neck of the boy underneath him. "You smell nice," he murmured in a thick accent into the other's skin._

_The boy struggled against the larger body that pinned him against the dirty wall. "Stop," he commanded, but it came out more as a squeak than anything. _

_"Why would I want to do that?" The tall, broad-shouldered male chuckled lowly. His smile feigned innocence, but even in Matthew's hazed thirteen-year-old mind, he knew that the other meant to hurt._

_He and Alfred had been allowed to go to the city by themselves for the first time, and _this _had happened. Would Alfred hear if he screamed? Would anyone? _No,_ Matthew thought, his hope slowly crumbling,_ we're in the most furthest part of this alley and Al's inside some comic book shop and oh, God, I'm going to die-

_"Do not fret," the stranger cooed into his ear. "I will take very good care of you."_

_He felt a hand creep up his shirt._

_Matthew screamed._

**. . .**

He didn't bolt upright, screaming, like in the movies when one of the characters have a nightmare. Matthew woke up huddled into a fetal position, tears slipping down his cheeks. The skin of his stomach tingled as he relieved the dream. _Been a while since that's happened,_ he thought dryly, reaching up to wipe his face.

Sitting up, he realized that it was five a.m. and that he couldn't go back to sleep. The unpleasant feeling in his skin was still there; he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, intent on getting rid of it.

Once in the shower, he purposely turned the knob to cold, shivering at the water that hit his skin rather harshly. He grabbed the soap and proceeded to nearly scrub himself raw.

Later, he slipped on his clothes for the day and sat beside the window on the floor. He didn't want to be in bed.

_"Are you awake?" _he texted Alfred. The American didn't text back within a minute, so Matthew guessed he was still asleep. He scrolled through his rather small list of contacts again, finding Lars's name this time. He texted him in hopes of a reply.

A few seconds later, to his relief, there was one. _"What are you doing up so early?"_ was the reply.

Matthew sniffled, but smiled. _"I could ask you the same thing_,_" _he sent back. Rumors were going around that Lars was doing drugs or something like that, but Matthew was pretty sure they were false...

His phone vibrated again. _"I'd love to talk, but my brother and sister are fighting again. See you at school."_

Matthew frowned, standing and pocketing his phone. He regretted not giving Arthur his number; he had no one to talk to now, even for just a few minutes. He glanced at the clock. It was six in the morning, still too early to do much of anything. He considered falling asleep again, but remembered he had a date with Arthur after school and then felt wide awake.

Time went by slowly. Matthew eventually went downstairs to eat breakfast.

He couldn't wait to see Arthur.

**. . .**

Alfred woke up late. After feeling around the nightstand for his glasses, finding them, and slipping them on, he realized that he was late to meet Matthew outside like usual.

He practically flew out of bed, cursing loudly to himself as he attempted to put his jeans on while pulling a shirt over his head. He was dressed in a record time of two minutes and thirteen seconds(not that he was counting) and out the door within ten more seconds. Matthew was sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for him. "Sorry, I woke up late," Alfred said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

Matthew looked up and giggled at his friend's disheveled appearance. "Forgot to set your alarm again?" he asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question. The rising sun's rays made his hair look almost golden. Alfred wouldn't deny that he wanted to run his fingers through those strands.

What did Matthew see in Arthur anyway?

"Doesn't matter now," he replied, waving a hand dismissively. But he sobered up when he saw something white in Matthew's lap. "Is that...your bear?" he asked hesitantly, kneeling down beside his friend.

"Yeah," Matthew said. "I found Kumakichi in my closet this morning." He lifted the small stuffed bear up for Alfred to see. "It reminded me of when I was little."

Alfred tilted his head to the side; the bear's name always seemed to change. "...Did you have that nightmare again?" he said. He hadn't seen Matthew carry that plush since a few years ago... And a few years ago, Matthew had confessed about having horrible nightmares. He never told Alfred what they were about, and apparently they receded when they started high school. He stopped carrying his stuffed bear around that time, too.

"No," Matthew said, standing up and brushing off imaginary dirt from his pants. "Can we start walking? I don't want to be late." He smiled at Alfred, taking his hand and pulling him lightly.

"If you say so." Matthew was a deceptively good liar when he tried. Alfred searched his face in vain, trying to figure out whether he was lying or not. "So, you're still up for playing catch after school, right?" he asked, deciding to move on to a brighter topic.

Matthew's steps seemed to slow. "After...school?" he said, sounding uncertain.

"That was the plan, right?" Alfred chirped. "Mattie? What's up?" he asked, seeing the distressed look on the Canadian's face.

"I'm so sorry!" Matthew suddenly cried out. He threw his arms around Alfred's waist as if he were holding on to dear life.

Alfred only patted his hair comfortingly. He was long since used to this. When Matthew apologized for something that he thought was really important, he'd first say "I'm sorry!", hug that person, and keep holding on until you asked what he was apologizing for. Alfred wasn't sure how his friend got into the habit of it, but it was cute. "For what?" he asked.

"I-I made plans with Arthur for after school, too," Matthew said. His voice was muffled since his face was pressed into Alfred's shirt. "I'm sorry, Al!"

"Chill, Matt." Alfred chuckled, repressing any feelings of hurt. "It's fine. We can do it tomorrow, yeah?" he tried, smiling. "Matt? You okay?"

"I feel like shit," Matthew sniffled bluntly into his shirt.

"There's the Canuck I know!" Alfred cheered, patting Matthew's back. "But seriously, we're gonna be late for school." He laughed when Matthew's demeanor changed almost immediately.

"I still feel bad, though," Matthew said as they continued walking at a brisk pace. "Do you want to come with us instead?"

Alfred didn't hesitate. "Sure!"

**. . .**

"Now, Mattie," Alfred began.

Matthew groaned, burying his face into his hands. "I get it, Al!" he said, trying to save himself from the umpteenth lecture that day. "If we get separated, I'll be careful. I won't go off with any clowns, and I won't take any candy from strangers."

It was the end of the day and, as fate decided, Matthew, Alfred, and Arthur were in the same English class. They were supposed to be reading a short story from their textbooks, but Alfred seemed hell-bent on distracting their group of three.

"You forgot the other one I warned you about!" he exclaimed, giving Matthew a scolding pout. "You shouldn't have sex with Arthur even if-"

"-he drugs me and forces me back to his house," Matthew finished in mortification. "I will perform the escaping trick that you taught me, knock him unconscious, and then call you. Not 911. Because they never get there in time." He glared weakly at Alfred. "Happy?"

Alfred beamed. "Yep!" he said, then turned to Arthur with a harder gaze. Alfred had started talking to him at least, even though most of the time he just threatened him. "Did you get that, Eyebrows? You try to pressure Mattie into anything he doesn't want-"

"-and you'll punch my face in," Arthur cut in, almost boredly. "Yes, I understand that from your ten-minute long rant." Matthew had told him that Alfred would be coming with them. Arthur didn't entirely mind(he still liked him, after all), but he wished that Alfred wasn't so protective.

Said teenager smiled, though the smile was feral. "Good."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Alfred whooped, standing up from his seat. "Finally!" he said in exaggerated relief. "We're free!"

Arthur watched wearily as the other boy raced on ahead of them. He patted Matthew's arm comfortingly, both of them unknowingly thinking the same thing: _This is going to be interesting._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** More of Matthew's past will be revealed. Until then, trying guessing who the mystery dude in his dream was? (If it wasn't that obvious already.) And this would have been up yesterday, but my internet connection decided to cut itself off. So...yeah. ^^

Carnival time!

**[Edit:]** Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry to anyone who clicked on the fifth chapter and found the fourth one instead... I accidentally uploaded the wrong chapter. D: Sorry! Here's the real one!


	6. Chapter 6: What Hurts the Most

**Ch. 6: What Hurts the Most**

Matthew didn't have a license yet and Alfred couldn't quite get his, even after more than numerous attempts. Arthur wasn't surprised when the American sheepishly admitted it. So Arthur ended up driving them to the carnival, and the car ride was certainly...amusing. Matthew sat on the passenger's seat next to Arthur. Alfred had been forced to sit in the back, and after complaining for several minutes, he decided to unbuckle his seat belt and wiggle into the space between Arthur's and Matthew's seats.

"Al!" Matthew yelped when one of Alfred's grappling hands landed somewhere rather embarrassing. "Stop it!"

"Sorry 'bout that," Alfred said, not sounding very sorry at all. He made himself comfortable on the surface of the square compartment. He couldn't fold his legs criss-cross, so he decided to just lay them across Matthew's lap. He ended up having to duck his head to avoid hitting the roof of the car, but Arthur was sure he didn't mind. He was always slouched anyway.

When they arrived at the carnival, things were already underway. The rides were up and different kinds of booths were scattered. Alfred spotted one of his favorite booths at once, the ball toss, as well as the giant stuffed animals that were being given out as prizes... Then he got an idea.

"I don't want to bother you guys," he said, turning to Arthur and Matthew. "So I'm just gonna hang with Lars over there, okay?" He jerked his thumb in a random direction, hoping that they'd buy the lie.

"Lars?" Matthew tilted his head, scanning the crowd. "He's here too?" He was going to keep looking for his friend when Alfred nudged him towards Arthur, causing him to bump into the Englishman. "W-What was that for?" Matthew stammered, frowning at Alfred.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You guys are the worst couple ever," he said flippantly. "Go do stuff that _normal_ couples do!" _Minus kissing_, he added silently._ And holding hands. And-_

"Are you implying that we're not normal?" asked Arthur sharply, narrowing his eyes. He had an arm around Matthew's shoulders, but only to steady him, of course.

Alfred couldn't help it. Arthur had set himself up for that one. "Well, Mattie's normal," he amended, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't know 'bout you, though."

Before Arthur could snap, Matthew stepped in between them, looking weary. "All _right_," he said, giving a pointed look at Alfred, who held his hands up in surrender. "Arthur and I are going to look around, and you," he poked Alfred in the chest playfully, "try not to get into any trouble."

Giving a mock-salute, Alfred said, "Yes, sir!" Then he ran off, in the direction of where "Lars" was.

Arthur chuckled despite Matthew's genuinely worried look. "Where do you want to go first?" he asked the younger, nudging his arm gently.

Matthew could swear that his heart did backflips and somersaults at the look that Arthur was flashing him - though probably the Englishman wasn't aiming to look like anything in particular.. "Um, I- I-" Matthew began, stumbling over his words. _Stupid, _he told himself, _you stupid awkward ninny, shut up shut up shut up_. Arthur was really starting to rub off on him... His insults, at least. (He'd called Alfred that too many times to count.)

But he couldn't help it! This was practically a date now, since Alfred had wandered off somewhere. And despite how many 'tips' his cousin Francis gave him, he had no idea how to act.

"Do you want to just look around until we find something of interest?" Arthur offered, trying not to show his amusement at the other's antics.

Matthew exhaled a little too loudly. "Sure," he said, sounding relieved and embarrassed at the same time.

"Let's go, then." Seeing as Matthew was probably half-melted and had a little difficulty moving from his spot, Arthur took hold of his shoulders and began steering him deeper into the bright-lighted carnival.

**. . .**

"I want to play!" Alfred declared, slapping his money down in front of the booth manager. He gave the bored-looking teenager his mega-watt smile, as if he needed to convince the girl any further.

The girl, with a nametag that read "Sunshine," took the money with a sigh that seemed to silently convey, "I hate my life." Without another word, she handed him three baseballs.

The game's set up was very simple, or maybe it was just because of the fact that Alfred had played this game so many times that he could do it in his sleep. There was a washboard that had three different sized holes(Alfred snickered). The first one was at the top; its diameter was the widest, about the size of one and a half baseballs. The second one was directly in front of Alfred's line of eyesight and middle-sized. The third one was the smallest, bigger than the baseball by just barely. It was at the bottom, at an angle that made it hard for the player to throw the baseball in.

Alfred knew he could win two ways: by making the shots all three times, or getting it through the third hole at least once(he snickered again).

Confidently, he picked up one of the baseballs and tossed it up into the air a few times. Today, all of his pitching practice would finally pay off. Or, at least, all of the hours he spent playing baseball on his Wii.

He aimed at the first hole, thinking he would try and get it three times in a row. He threw the ball, and he beamed as it soared through the opening. Yes! One down, two to go.

He picked up the second baseball, all the while eyeing the second hole critically. He didn't realize he was taking so much time until Sunshine barked, "Hurry up already!"

Alfred brushed her off with a small scoff. Obviously, she didn't know that fast and steady won the race. Or whatever that phrase was...

Still, he threw, and nearly cried out loud in anguish when the ball missed its mark by _an inch_ and bounced off.

He couldn't win by making three shots, now.

He had no choice but to...

Alfred picked up the last baseball, eyeing the third hole with a glare that was almost comical. It was the only way he could win. _You can do it!_ he told himself inwardly._ Do it for Mattie!_

He threw the ball with as much strength as he could muster.

Then, with exaggerated(or maybe not so) joy, he cheered as the ball went in. Sunshine rolled her eyes at him, going to retrieve the baseballs. "Which prize do you want?" she droned, gesturing to the array of stuffed animals, which looked about half his size, in the back.

Alfred took a few moments to look them over, until he smiled, seeing the perfect choice. "I want that one!" He pointed to a stuffed animal of a polar bear.

**. . .**

"You're too good at this," Arthur said as yet another red balloon popped, signaling that Matthew was one away from winning the "mystery prize."

Matthew blushed at the compliment, faltering at his last throw. "I just have freakishly good aim," he said with a modest shrug. "Al says that I cheat, but then again he's a sore loser." He smiled fondly, before aiming at a large green balloon and throwing the dart with sharp precision.

The balloon practically exploded and water sprayed everywhere. Namely, Matthew's face. "Oh." The Canadian winced, stepping back from where he'd been leaning so close to the balloon-tacked dartboard. "My bad." He giggled despite himself, looking down at his shirt. Luckily, no water had gotten on it.

"Let me help." Arthur placed two fingers under Matthew's chin, lifting it, and dabbing away at the wetness on his cheeks with his sleeve. He smiled at Matthew's blushing face, trying not to chuckle. The boy really was adorable...

A cough interrupted them and Arthur let his hand fall back to his side. Matthew looked...disappointed? The person who'd interrupted them was the teenager in charge of the booth. He looked stunned, but was smirking, mainly to Arthur.

"You are finished, da?" Another voice chimed in from behind them.

Arthur saw Matthew's shoulders suddenly tense. He touched Matthew's shoulder, worried. "What's the matter?" he said.

"Nothing." A forced smile appeared on the Canadian's face and he took Arthur's hand. "I want to go on the Ferris wheel. Can we go on the Ferris wheel?" There was something in his indigo eyes, Arthur noticed, a kind of pleading look.

Arthur nodded once, though he was frowning a little. "Don't you want your prize?" he said, glancing at the booth. But Matthew was already dragging him away towards the bright Ferris wheel. He cast a curious look behind them at the fading booth and caught sight of the person who'd been behind them: Tall, indigo-eyed, like Matthew's own eyes, except a shade darker both figuratively and literally.

He said nothing, allowing himself to be pulled to the Ferris wheel.

**. . .**

_"Please stop," Matthew whispered. A hand tugged at his shirt and tears prickled at his eyes as he tried to shove it away. "Stop." He might as well have been talking to air. The larger boy didn't seem to hear him at all._

_"What a troublesome piece of clothing," the other said. _

_Matthew's eyes widened as he felt the grip on his shirt tighter. He tried to pull away, but his wrists were successfully pinned above his head. Panic was slowly taking over his mind and he bit his lip to stifle a frustrated sob._

_He didn't want to have his first time like this._

_Where was Alfred?_

_The hand pulled at his shirt harder and Matthew feared it would rip. He turned his head to the left, staring at the entrance of the alley that seemed so far away._

_And then, by a miracle, an outline of a person stepped into the alley. "Hey, you!" the person shouted, and Matthew could see that they were making their way towards them. _

_His wrists were released and he crumpled to the alleyway's dirty ground. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and he held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a tousled blond head._

_"Alfred?" he mumbled._

_"Stand up, lad," the person, who apparently was not Alfred, told him. His arm was slung over their shoulder and he found himself being helped up to his feet. "Are you hurt?" his savior asked. "Did he...do anything?"_

_Matthew could manage a weak shake of his head. Emerald green eyes studied him, making sure he wasn't injured._

_That was when Matthew had first fallen in love._

**. . .**

"So, do you want to tell me who that was?" Arthur questioned him when they were on the Ferris wheel.

Matthew bit his lip until he tasted a little blood. He kept his eyes focused on the scene of the carnival outside of their passenger car. "Just someone I'd rather forget," he said, choosing his words carefully. After all, he'd tried hard to forget those memories...

"All right." Arthur didn't sound convinced.

Soon, the Ferris wheel slowed to a stop, and as luck would have it, their passenger car was at the highest point, giving Matthew a sense of giddy when he looked out and saw how high up they were.

"I have to tell you something," Arthur said, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Matthew, feeling a little better, turned to Arthur. "Hm?" he said, noticing the Englishman's uneasy demeanor.

"Matthew..." Arthur began. He ran a hand through his spiky locks anxiously. "Do you remember that letter I gave to you?" he asked.

"Yes," Matthew answered, a little confused. Of course he would remember. He had stored that letter safely in a locked box as to never lose it.

Arthur sighed. He locked eyes with the boy across him, emerald orbs filled with regret. "The letter...wasn't meant for you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Now I get to have fun writing drama. Oh, yes, how I enjoy that~

As for the nearly-a-week-late update, I do apologize. My mom dragged me to an abrupt visit to my cousins in Vermont, and I was ordered to leave my precious laptop behind. But we got home earlier today, and I was determined to post this chapter on as a sort-of Canada Day celebration(though I already wrote something for that...).

Happy Canada Day to everyone! *throws whatever you're suppose to throw on celebrations*


	7. Chapter 7: Grenade

**Ch. 7: Grenade**

"What?" Matthew said, looking stunned. His brain slowly processed Arthur's words. "What do you mean...it wasn't meant for me?"

There was a hint of hurt in Matthew's eyes. Arthur despaired. "I meant to give it to someone else," he repeated. "I've always liked you as a friend, and as a friend only, Matthew." His tone softened. Matthew had always been reasonable. He would understand, right?

"Oh," Matthew said quietly, his eyes flitting to look out the window of their passenger car. "All right."

"Matthew?" The guilt was ever-present in Arthur's mind. He reached out a tentative hand, only to have Matthew jerk away. "I'm sorry," he added uselessly.

"No, don't apologize." Matthew shook his head a little, glancing at Arthur with wet eyes. "It was my fault, anyway. I jumped on you before you could explain."

Their passenger car halted for the second time, and Arthur realized that they were back on the bottom. A man opened their door and Arthur was about to ask Matthew if he'd like to spend the rest of their time at the carnival together, but Matthew was quicker. The Canadian slipped out before Arthur could blink.

**. . .**

_I'm so pathetic_, Matthew thought, trying vainly to hold in his tears. He should have known in the beginning it was too good to be true. After all, Arthur was the student council president, he had one of the best grades, and was quite well-known around the school; why would he ever stop to notice a _nobody?_

"Hey, Matt!" Who was that? Matthew didn't want to turn around to check and risk catching Arthur's eyes. He was afraid that he'd really start bawling then.

He pushed past the people who were waiting to get on the Ferris wheel, muttering empty apologies as he elbowed his way through.

A hand clamped on his shoulder just as he stumbled outside the entrance to the carnival. He assumed it was Arthur and whirled, face twisting into an angry expression, slapping the hand away.

"Matt?" But it wasn't Arthur. It was Alfred, his blue eyes a little hurt behind his glasses, holding a gigantic stuffed animal under his arm.

"Alfred," Matthew said in surprise, his arm dropping back to his side. He bowed his head, mostly to conceal his teary eyes. "Sorry, eh. Thought you were someone else." He turned and started heading for the road.

The sound of shoes hitting the gravel reached his ears and he realized that Alfred was following him. "Where are you going?" his best friend queried, falling beside him.

"Home," Matthew mumbled. He reached up to wipe at his eyes, almost knocking his glasses off in the process. "You should go back to the carnival."

Alfred frowned, grabbing Matthew's forearm in an attempt to slow the Canadian down. "Matt," he said, his tone indicating that he was serious. "I thought Arthur was driving us home."

"He changed his mind," Matthew replied bitterly. He shook off Alfred's grip, forcing a smile. "Please, Al. Just go back to the carnival, okay?"

"Mattie." Alfred stepped in front of his path. Setting the polar bear plushie down, this time he took hold of Matthew's shoulders. "Matthew. What happened?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in worry.

"Nothing," Matthew said through gritted teeth. He bit his lower lip in an effort to repress the sobs that were about to come out. _God, I'm so pathetic_.

He found himself being pulled into a warm chest, a pair of arms holding him comfortingly. He took a shaky breath and exhaled hard, his own arms clutching at Alfred's back tightly. He buried his head into Alfred's shoulder and cried.

**. . .**

Beams of the moonlight filtered through the half-closed blinds of Alfred's bedroom, their only source of light save for a small bedside lamp. Matthew was sitting against the headboard of Alfred's bed, holding a thin blanket around himself.

"You okay there, Matt?" Alfred asked from the bathroom, where he was still changing.

"I'm fine," Matthew answered softly. His gaze wandered about the room; Alfred really hadn't redecorated from when they were kids. Not that Matthew minded - it almost gave him a nostalgic feeling.

"I miss this," Alfred said, walking out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He threw himself on the bed, narrowly missing Matthew. "Sleeping over each other's house, I mean." He moved up further until he was resting beside Matthew, an arm languidly across his friend's midsection.

It reminded Matthew of when they were kids, except he'd be the one hugging Alfred, due to the horror movie they'd just watched.

"It makes me feel old," Matthew said, cracking a smile. It felt good to smile, in contrast with how he'd been crying about an hour earlier.

"But we're not," Alfred said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have been able to walk the distance from the carnival to here." He paused for a few seconds, debating inwardly whether he should speak. "Mattie, can I ask you something?"

Matthew ran his hands through Alfred's hair, playing with the soft strands absent-mindedly. He gave a small hum to signal he was listening.

"It's about what happened earlier." Alfred swallowed, trying to choose his words very carefully. "The reason why you were crying... Was it Arthur?" Matthew had yet to tell him what happened, but Alfred had a pretty good idea. He just needed Matthew to confirm it before he'd start planning Arthur's demise for breaking Matthew's heart.

There was a visible tense in Matthew's body. The hands in Alfred's hair stilled, then were gently taken out. "Yes," he whispered almost inaudibly. Alfred strained to hear it, but clenched his fists when he heard.

"That bastard," he nearly growled.

The rest of the story tumbled out from Matthew's lips. He retold what Arthur had said to him, his voice wavering on some parts.

Alfred listened, silently fuming. He knew Arthur had been up to no good. That huge-eyebrowed monster hadn't treated Matthew like he truly liked him. Alfred knew because if he were Arthur, he would spend every second with Matthew, and he would constantly remind him of how much he loved him.

Matthew deserved that kind of treatment. He was the nicest, most wonderful person Alfred had ever met, and unfortunately, he was almost always the one who got hurt, one way or another.

Alfred promised himself that if he ever ended up with Matthew, he'd never hurt him. Not like Arthur had.

"So the letter was never meant for me," Matthew finished softly. He looked down at his lap. "Is it pathetic that, if I had known from the start, I would have gone out with him anyway?" He found his eyes filled with tears again and he let a few escape, sliding down his cheeks to dampen the shirt Alfred had let him borrow.

Alfred repositioned himself onto his side, facing the other blond. "You're not pathetic," he assured with a small smile. "You just wanted to know what it was like."

Matthew smiled back gratefully. "Thank you, Al."

"Anytime, Mattie." And with that, Alfred leaned down and kissed him on the lips. It was short and chaste, and Alfred drew away feeling light-headed.

"W-What..." Matthew's body was shocked still beneath him, indigo eyes wide and staring up at him in...fear? What was Matthew afraid of?

"I would never hurt you on purpose," Alfred murmured. His hand ghosted along the other's cheek. "I promise you that, Matthew." He slid under the blanket smoothly, though his heart was hammering loudly in his ears.

He prayed that he hadn't just ruined everything.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I still don't know what pairing this is going to end in. *melts in anxiety*

I'm sorry for the short chapter. D:


	8. Chapter 8: Sugar, We're Going Down

**Ch. 8: Sugar, We're Going Down**

He was pushed away.

There was a stab of hurt that ached painfully at his heart. Alfred stared as Matthew hastily got up, the Canadian's face red in...anger? Embarrassment? Alfred sincerely hoped it wasn't the former. The last thing he wanted was for Matthew to hate him.

"I have to go," Matthew mumbled, shoving his feet into sneakers. He didn't bother with a proper goodbye, slipping out of Alfred's bedroom and presumably out of the house.

Alfred finally gathered enough bearings to move, and when he did, he made his way over to the window. It appeared that he was too late; Matthew's own window was shut, and the curtains blocked any view of the Canadian's room.

With a sigh and a strong urge to kick himself, Alfred slid into his bed and tried to fall asleep.

**. . .**

Matthew stumbled numbly into his house and up to his room, vaguely aware of his mother calling after him. He didn't blame her. Earlier, he'd called to let her know he was staying at Alfred's, only to come back later looking like a mess. And still wearing Alfred's shirt.

The fact that he would have to return it in the morning didn't help his oncoming headache. His brain felt too full, emotions swirling, and he was frustrated that he couldn't control them. He was usually able to stay calm...

He felt angry. And sad, and disappointed, and _oh, so_ confused. Alfred... Had he really meant that? _Well, did he _look_ like he was joking?_ a sarcastic voice inside Matthew's head griped. _Of course he meant it._

Matthew stifled a groan by stuffing his face into a nearby pillow.

He liked Alfred. Maybe there was a slight chance that he liked him enough that he'd go on a date with him. But all Matthew had ever thought Alfred to be was his best friend, and he found it a little hard to imagine their relationship as more than that.

And Arthur. Matthew's head - and heart - throbbed just thinking his name. So Matthew yanked the bedsheet over his head and tried to forget the kisses, the concerned words directed to him, the feel of Arthur's hand on his cheek, the carnival, and the damn letter that started it all.

The next day, he would talk to Arthur. He'd tell him he understood, that he was sorry - he was used to apologizing anyway. And since it would be a Friday, he would have some time to recuperate...

Matthew didn't get much sleep that night. He woke up at least three different times, eyes wide at the ceiling, anxiety threatening to overtake him.

Eventually the sharp ringing of his alarm clock put him out of his misery. He turned it off, glad to finally have something to do besides lie down and think of Arthur.

He dressed, made sure he had Alfred's shirt, and walked out of his house. Alfred was already there, surprisingly; usually the American was the second one out. The moment he caught sight of Matthew, his eyes widened. "'Mattie!"

Matthew blushed involuntarily, remembering the previous night. He held out the shirt. "Sorry for running out like that last night," he mumbled as Alfred took it.

"No, it's fine." Alfred stuffed the shirt into his backpack before giving a crooked smile. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

The bluntness of his words made Matthew want to crawl under a rock and hide. He doesn't say anything in reply, and instead chooses to start walking. The awkwardness that fell over them had Matthew wishing they would get to school faster.

But that quickly changed when they actually got there.

**. . .**

Arthur knew something was very wrong when he arrived at school and he felt everyone's eyes on him. It wasn't the just-happened-to-land-my-eyes-on-you kind of stare, it was more of hey-look-it's-that-guy.

He walked past them, figuring it was something from the rumor mill again. He'd learned to ignore things like that, even if they involved him. The rumors never last for more than a week, anyway.

There was something taped to his locker when he got there. He ripped the red piece of paper off, eyes narrowed at its contents. He felt rage bubbling up inside him, though it quickly turned to panic.

Had Matthew seen this yet? They were scattered all over the hallways, the red contrasting sharply against the white lockers.

No, Arthur was always one of the first ones to school. That meant he would have a chance to stop Matthew before...

He crumpled the paper in his hand and didn't hesitate in running to the front of the school. He'd seen Matthew walk in this way. Alfred would be with him, and no doubt ready with a creative way to kill Arthur.

But he couldn't - no, he _wouldn't_ - let Matthew see the fliers.

Arthur got there in time. He was two steps outside the school when he bumped into Matthew. The boy immediately turned to apologize, but faltered when he saw that it was Arthur.

"Someone threw up right in front of the doors," Arthur lied, gesturing behind him. "The teacher sent me out here to tell everyone to go around the back."

There would probably be fliers there, too, but it was closer to their homeroom. And with luck, he would be able to distract Matthew from seeing them.

"Right," Alfred drawled. "We're supposed to believe you." _After last night._ Arthur didn't need to hear the last part spoken out loud; it was implied enough.

Matthew spoke up, having always been more reasonable. "Come on, Al, let's just go through the back," he said quietly. His eyes met Arthur's for a second. "Thanks for telling us, Arthur."

Arthur swallowed. "You're welcome."

For a second, he thought that he'd actually pull this off. Once the two were in the classroom, he'd go about tearing each and every one of those fliers to shreds. Then he'd find the idiot who put them up and make them wish they'd never been born.

But then the door was shoved open from behind him, and out came Lars, a frown creasing his brows. He caught sight of Matthew and, before Arthur could stop him, shove a flier at the Canadian. "What is this?"

Matthew looked confused. He glanced up at Lars before lowering his eyes to the bold words on the flier: _SLUT._

Below it were two pictures: One of him and Arthur getting in the Ferris wheel, the other of him and Alfred hugging.

"What..." He felt hot tears prick at his eyes.

Alfred, who had finished looking over the flier with a murderous glare, was quicker to react. He turned and fisted the front of Arthur's shirt, jerking the slightly shorter male forward. "You better have a fucking death wish," he growled.

"I didn't do it!" Arthur snapped, hitting the other over the head. His shirt was let go. "Don't be so quick to accuse me, you bloody-"

"And why shouldn't I?" Alfred interrupted, stepping forward dangerously close. "Do I need to remind you of what happened last night?"

"I'm perfectly aware of what happened last night!" Arthur placed two hands on the American's chest and shoved him back, hard. "But that doesn't mean that I'm big enough of an arsehole to do this." And, though he knew that Matthew was watching, he added, "And I might not like Matthew in that way, but I do care about him."

"Fuck you," Alfred snarled.

"Al!" Matthew said sharply, tugging him away from Arthur with a hand. The other one was still clutching the flier, shaky. "He's telling the truth."

Arthur looked at Matthew, awe in his eyes. "Thank you, Matthew," he said, but Matthew just directed his gaze at the ground.

"I think it's best if we just ignore these," Matthew continued, his voice soft. "They're not true...so it's not a big deal."

Arthur knew it was otherwise. He could tell by the slightest way that Matthew's body trembled.

Lars, who they'd forgotten was still there, shifted uncomfortably. "I saw someone putting them up," he said. "He was a boy, had brown hair, about the same length as yours, Matt."

"I'll kill him," Alfred said.

"He's not worth it," Matthew said. He crumpled the piece of paper much like Arthur had earlier and shoved it into his backpack. "No one's gonna believe it, anyway. Everyone knows rumors are stupid." The way he spoke sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Arthur watched helplessly as Matthew strode into the school.

**. . .**

Alfred managed it through halfway of the day without punching anyone. Namely, Arthur, and anyone who had brown hair.

At lunch, he was waiting for Matthew at their table when a freshman burst in, eyes wild. "Someone's about to jump off the roof!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I finally worked out a schedule for updates. This story will be updated on Sundays and Thursdays, but I got this chapter done so I updated a day early.

See you on Sunday! :D


	9. Chapter 9: I Hate Everything About You

**Ch. 9: I Hate Everything About You**

"Hey, look, it's the slut!"

"Look over here!"

His fellow classmates really had no inhibition, calling out things like that in the middle of class. Though it didn't help that their teacher was practically deaf.

Matthew let his hair fall in front of his face in an attempt to hide himself. Never before had he wished that his ability to be overlooked would kick in. He had been fine during the first part of the morning; Lars was around, and the Dutch boy only needed to glare at anyone to shut them up. But by the middle of fourth period Matthew felt the umpteenth crumpled piece of paper land on his desk.

Did he dare open this one? He gritted his teeth and stuffed it into his pocket to throw out later. All the other ones contained rather nasty slurs. Matthew would be lying if he said they didn't hurt.

Something poked him in the back of his neck, and he turned back to see an unfamiliar face grinning mockingly at him. He mouthed something, but Matthew didn't want to know what it was. He raised his hand quickly and asked to go to the bathroom.

There was only one other student in there. Matthew ignored them in favor of the sinks, twisting the knob for cold water. He splashed his face, relishing in the way the cold water dripped down his cheeks.

"Is everything all right?" the other student with him asked.

Matthew raised his head and swiped the droplets from his face. He was surprised that the first thing that came out of the other's mouth wasn't a jeer. "I'm fine," he muttered, drying his face with a dry paper towel. As he threw it away, he glanced to see who it was.

The boy was about his height, maybe a little shorter. He had wavy brown hair that stopped a few inches above his shoulder, and his eyes weren't visible since he was turned around. Matthew was about to walk out of the bathroom and think nothing of him until he saw something yellow sticking out of their back pocket.

"You saw those, huh?" Matthew dared to say. He braced himself for the bad things that would surely follow, though he couldn't help hoping this boy would be different.

The brunet turned around, his eyes slightly wider with a hint of panic in them. He visibly relaxed when he seemed to realize what Matthew was asking. "I saw them," he admitted, sounding guilty. "I was tearing them off earlier." He pulled out the papers. It was a little too quick; they slipped out of his grasp and fluttered to the floor.

"Really?" Matthew's heart swelled at the thought of a stranger doing such a thing for him. "Thank you." He smiled genuinely, kneeling down to help pick up the papers. "I'm Matthew," he said, neatly gathering the fliers.

"My name is Toris," the brunet said. He gave Matthew a shaky smile in return.

Matthew stood up, the few papers tucked safely back in Toris's hands. "Are you new here?" he questioned. "I don't remember seeing you around before."

Toris nodded. "I just transferred a week ago, actually," he said, sounding a little nervous.

Before Matthew could asked anything else, Toris's eyes shifted to something behind him and he exclaimed, "I'm sorry, are we in your way?"

Matthew turned to see who it was, only to shrink back meekly. "Hello, Arthur," he practically squeaked. He wished that his face wasn't burning as madly as it felt.

Arthur's green eyes flickered over to him. "Matthew," he acknowledged evenly.

There was something bubbling in the pit of Matthew's stomach: Hurt? Disappointment? Then again, he supposed he shouldn't had been leading himself to believe that Arthur would come back to him, apologize, say that despite the letter, he loved him, and-

"Excuse me," Matthew muttered, and promptly made his exit. He brushed past Arthur, his shoulder just slightly touching the Englishman's.

He tried to pretend he wasn't affected.

**. . .**

Arthur had quietly watched the two converse in the doorway of the bathroom. He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but the only reason he'd gone to the bathroom was in hopes of finding Matthew. And he did, evidently. But he wasn't alone.

Toris looked too anxious to be innocent, and Arthur wondered why that was. When he saw the fliers scatter to the floor, his eyes narrowed sharply and he had an answer.

Eventually Toris caught sight of him. He stepped forward and said hello to Matthew. He wished he could say more, but only God knew what kind of abuse from their classmates that would bring. So he let Matthew walk away - regretfully.

But he told himself he'd make it up by doing this.

"You were tearing them off, you said?" he began casually, crossing his arms.

Toris, who was folding the papers and putting them back in his pockets, looked up. "Y-Yes," he stammered.

Arthur let the other boy stand there and fidget nervously. _He deserves it_, Arthur thought venomously. "You were the one who put them up," he then said bluntly.

Toris's expression twisted into something that resembled distress. "No, I didn't!" he said, and for Arthur, he said it a little too quickly. "I took them down. I was going to throw them away."

"If you wanted to throw them away, you could have already done so," Arthur retorted, nudging a trash can beside his foot. Toris started to say something in indignation, but Arthur continued, "Besides, if you took them down, there wouldn't be in such perfect condition, right?" His eyes gleamed with malice.

Toris stared at him.

Then he made a beeline for the open doorway.

"Hey, wait!" Arthur called, grabbing for the brunet's shirt but missing. He cursed, quickly taking off after him. "Get back here, you limey!"

**. . .**

Matthew returned to his classroom to find it half empty. Glancing at the clock, he realized why: The period was over and everyone was heading for lunch. He sighed softly, finding his desk and gathering his books.

"Mr. Williams?"

He turned to his teacher, who was a middle-aged woman with a gentle smile. "Yes?" Matthew said politely. The last thing he needed was to be in trouble.

"Are you...doing all right?" In her hand was a crumpled piece of paper. Matthew froze. She had probably seen the fliers too.

He nodded, the action jerky. "I'm fine," he said. It was the truth, wasn't it? He was fine...

"Just remember, if there's ever a problem, you can talk to me."

She knew. She _knew_. Matthew nodded again, pressing his books tightly to his chest. "I have to go," he mumbled, rather rudely walking past her and out of the classroom.

He walked quickly to the cafeteria, dying to see Alfred. And he did, just outside of the cafeteria, along with a mob of students heading down the hall. The American looked frazzled and when he saw Matthew he enveloped the other into a hug.

"Alfred," Matthew said against his chest. "Please let me go." People were trying to shove past them, obviously in a hurry. But for what?

"I was so scared!" Alfred exclaimed, pulling away to inspect Matthew. "I thought you were the one jumping."

Matthew frowned. "Jumping?" he echoed incredulously. "Why would you think that?" He didn't wait for an answer and twisted around to see where everyone was going. "Why are they going outside?" he queried.

"Some kid ran in the cafeteria and said that someone was going to jump from the roof," Alfred answered, his blue eyes swimming with confusion. "Come on!" He took Matthew's hand and began pulling him towards the double doors.

"No!" Matthew pulled away and almost bumped into someone. "I'm not just going to stand there and _watch_ while something like that happens!" Then he began running the opposite direction, towards the end of the hall, where he knew the door to the roof was. Alfred called after him but when Matthew glanced back, his friend was not visible among the many students filing for the door.

Matthew reached the door and yanked it open.

**. . .**

"Just tell me why you'd do such a thing!" Arthur demanded Toris, who was a few feet away near the edge of the roof. "Matthew is nothing like what you claim him to be, but now everyone thinks otherwise because of you!"

"I'm truly sorry!" Toris said, desperation creeping into his voice. "But I had no choice. I was told to do it." He took a step backwards, his feet a few inches from the edge.

Arthur faltered. He didn't want to drive the boy into accidentally falling over, no matter what he'd done. "Then just tell everyone that it was a joke," he said calmly. "That you didn't mean it. Everything will be okay afterwards."

"No, it won't." Toris's voice cracked. "He'll get mad if I do that."

"Who will get mad?" Arthur asked, daring to take a small step. "Just tell me his name, Toris, and I swear I will beat the living daylights out of him myself." His face was set in grim determination.

"Arthur! Toris!" Someone pushed open the door and Arthur turned to see that it was Matthew. "What are you doing?" the younger blond cried. "Don't jump!"

"Who said anything about jumping, lad?" Arthur said irately.

Matthew gave him a look of disbelief. "Everyone thinks that you're going to jump!" he said breathlessly to Toris, who was still standing there in fright.

"Those bloody idiots," Arthur seethed under his breath. "Will twist any situation around to sate their boredom."

The door was opened again and this time it was Alfred. "Matt!" He ran over and practically tackled the Canadian, knocking Arthur over in his haste. "God damn it, Matthew, don't run off like that!"

Matthew was preoccupied with Alfred and Arthur was dazed on the floor. Toris saw his chance and ran past them, jumping over Arthur. "I really am sorry!" he shouted honestly, before he disappeared down the stairs.

"Alfred," Matthew said, pushing his best friend off at an arm's length. "I'm fine. You don't have to be looking over me all the time." Even though he was glad for it. He didn't say that, though.

"But I was just worried, Mattie," Alfred said. A pout tugged at his lips. "I thought-"

"You idiot!" Arthur yelled, interrupting their conversation. "Honestly, do you have to barge into other people's businesses and ruin _everything_?" Never mind the fact that he used to like the boy. Alfred was nothing like Arthur thought he would be.

"Oh, look who's talking," Alfred retorted. "Do I need to remind you that you're the same bastard who broke-"

"Alfred, stop," Matthew snapped, stepping in between them. "Both of you. I get that you two don't like each all too well, but that doesn't mean you should argue every chance you get!"

"Belt up!" Arthur was fuming. At this point, he barely saw the hurt that flashed in Matthew's eyes as he pushed him aside. "Don't go blaming me for something that you think you know entirely about," he hissed, malicious green eyes clashing with defiant blue. "_Because you don't._"

Then he shoved Alfred, hard.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Shit just hit the fan. Never mind, that happened a while ago. O_o

Thank you for all the reviews! Seriously, I never thought so many people would actually take the time to read this. And we're close to the 100-review mark, too. I don't like asking for reviews, but I have to do _something_, so the hundredth reviewer will get a oneshot from me. It can be about anything, and if it has a pairing/multiple pairings, it must include Canada. Because I _suck_ at writing for other pairings. D:

See you on France's birthday~! ;)


	10. Chapter 10: All to Myself

**A/N:** HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY, FRANCE. YOU'RE A PERVERT BUT WE LOVE YOU ANYWAY.

* * *

><p><strong>Ch. 10: All to Myself<br>**

It all happened a slow motion, at least in Matthew's viewpoint. Arthur's arms snapped out with surprising strength and Matthew could only watch helplessly as Alfred stumbled back. Then, he stumbled a little _too _close to the edge, and Matthew found the will to move, lurching forward and grabbing for his best friend.

He missed.

Matthew looked at his empty grasp for a second before he crawled over the edge and peered down. He covered his eyes with a hand, afraid to look. It was a three-story drop to the ground, but he'd heard of people breaking bones from heights smaller than that. He took a deep breath and lowered his hand.

Alfred was lying on his back - though Matthew didn't know if he landed that way or just rolled over. To the Canadian's relief, one of his arms were fine, because he raised it and waved up weakly.

There was another groan heard, and Matthew's eyes flickered over to another student lying facedown nearby. Had Alfred _landed_ on him?

Panic seemed to finally settle in. A voice shouted, "He's dead!" which Matthew growled at, because Arthur was right. They really would twist any situation around to sate the lack of excitement.

Alfred wasn't dead, though, and neither was the student that he'd landed on. They sat up, Alfred sitting and the other dazed on his knees. Matthew cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted down, "Alfred! Don't worry, I'll be right there!"

He doubted that Alfred heard him, though, because their fellow classmates had already started shouting in hysteria. Matthew heard someone yell, "Call 911!" and was glad that at least one of them had enough common sense.

A hand was placed firmly on his shoulder to pull him back. It was then that Matthew realized he'd been about to lean forward too far and turned to thank the person. Then he remembered that the person was Arthur.

Concerned green eyes stared at him. "Are you all right?"

"Am _I_ all right?" Matthew screamed back, scrambling to his feet, away from the edge. "Why don't you try asking Alfred, the one you _pushed off the roof_?"

"Matthew." Arthur's voice was thick with regret.

_What?_ Matthew thought snidely. _Regretting that he just injured Alfred instead of killing him? _"I can't believe I loved you," he said, voice lowering to a whisper. "Actually," he barked out a sarcastic laugh, "I can't believe I still do. But what you did was _not _okay."

Arthur looked hapless. "Matthew," he began again. But he stopped there, unsure of how to continue.

"You could have killed him," Matthew said. Then he shoved past the Englishman to join Alfred.

**. . .**

This wasn't the first time Alfred went to the hospital. When he was six, he sprained his ankle when he and Matthew were playing on the swings. When he was nine, he twisted his other foot from going down a slide the wrong way. When he was fourteen, he broke an arm in football.

Needless to say, Alfred had gone through worse. His wrist was sprained as revealed by an x-ray, but the injury was minor. The doctor had taken one look at the arm he was cradling, then sighed and began to inspect it, almost routinely.

"What it is this time, Alfred?" the doctor said, clicking his pen and starting to scribble something on a piece of paper.

"I fell off a roof and hurt my arm," Alfred answered, albeit sheepishly. He glanced up with a cheeky smile directed at Matthew, who was sitting on the opposite side of the room. Matthew scowled in return.

The doctor looked weary. "And how did that happen?" he asked. He gently took Alfred's arm and examined it.

"Well, I was taking Mattie on one of those picnics - on the roof, like they do in chick flicks," Alfred said, sounding a little too happy. "Then he wouldn't let me kiss his cheek, so I started chasing him. Then I slipped and fell off the roof." He smiled brightly.

Matthew's face turned into one of confusion. "But, Arthur-"

"Oh, right," Alfred interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Arthur was there too. But I kind of forgot about him. I mean, anyone would, when they have _him_ sitting in front of them." He winked at Matthew.

Matthew started to protest again but the doctor chuckled. "That's very good, Alfred," he said, an amused smile on his face. He shot a knowing smile towards Matthew, who just harrumphed and sulked. "I'm going to go get some materials for a cast," the man said, clicking his pen again and tucking it behind his ear. "Don't strain your arm too much, Alfred."

"No promises, Doc." Alfred flashed him a thumbs up.

As soon as the doctor exited the room, Matthew started asking questions. "Why would you do that?" he practically shrieked.

"Um... Which part are you talking about?" Alfred said with a nervous chuckle.

"All of the parts!" Matthew sighed in exasperation and got up, walking over to the bed. "Are you okay?" he rested an arm lightly on Alfred's injured arm.

Alfred brushed off the weird change in attitude. "Well, I had to improvise," he answered. "And chill, it doesn't hurt that bad. It was only two stories."

Matthew successfully refrained from yelling at him again. "Well, not that I like your sudden urge to cover for Arthur, but... Why?"

Shrugging, Alfred replied flatly, "I don't know."

Before Matthew could berate him, the door was opened, and there stood Arthur in all his glory, looking ragged and out of breath. "I found you," he got out in between pants, closing the door behind him. "I'm not supposed to be here," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Then why are you here?" Matthew asked quietly, fiddling the Alfred's fingers.

Arthur shifted. He was uncomfortable. "Alfred, I truly am sorry," he began sincerely. "I don't know what came over me."

"Me neither," Alfred grumbled. "But, Arthur, it's okay. I mean...I've been through worse."

Matthew blinked and his eyes widened to the point where they started to resemble dining plates. _Is Alfred actually being...civil?_

"Hey, Mattie, do you mind getting me a cup of water?" Alfred turned to him, a smiling crookedly. "I feel really, really thirsty."

"Um... Sure." Matthew shot him a curious glance but didn't question anything. He brushed past Arthur and berated his heart for beating so loudly. He exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"So," Alfred said once it was just him and Arthur. "I have every reason to hate you, but since Matt's still so hung up over you, I figured it's not gonna be a good idea to act like it."

"Hung up over me?" Arthur echoed. He shook his head. The sentence sounded laughable. "He detests me."

"Detest?"

"It means 'hate.' "

"Oh. Well, he only hates you now because you pushed his best friend off the roof." Alfred pointed to himself. "I don't think he could ever hate you. I mean, he's loved you since, like, elementary."

Arthur winced. Guilt pricked at him again. "Well, he certainly doesn't love me anymore," he insisted.

"Oh, yeah, what happened at the carnival was pretty bad," Alfred said, grinning despite the situation. He sobered up quickly, though. "But I don't think he stopped loving you."

Arthur was going to ask, "Who are you and what have you done with the American git that I know?" but Alfred kept going, "After we walked home from the carnival, I kissed him, you know."

"You what!" Arthur exclaimed.

Ignoring the outburst, Alfred continued. "I've liked him for a long time now, and trust me, I'm really open about it. But even after I kissed him, he still preferred your eyebrows over my sexy hunk of a body."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say," Alfred said solemnly, "that I hate to see Matt like this. And don't they say, _If you really love something, let it go?_ Something like that."

"_If it comes back to you, it's yours,_" Arthur picked up, nodding. "_If it doesn't, it was never yours to begin with._"

Alfred laughed. "Yeah, well, if I do this, he's probably never going to come back to be with me... But he's going to be happy, right?" He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself. Finally, he locked eyes with Arthur. "So I'm giving him up...to you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Update is a day late. :( This chapter would be the deciding moment of what pairing it would end in, so I had a lot of indecision as to how this would end. But I did, and now look up at the characters status thingy. ^^^^ I understand that some of you might be upset about the decision, but I honestly think that this would be the best way to end it.

I'd say about six more chapters left?

P.S. Thank you so much for the reviews, you guys! We're almost at a 100 and I'm inwardly spazzing in happiness. :D


	11. Chapter 11: She Will Be Loved

**Ch. 11: She Will Be Loved  
><strong>

Matthew turned on what seemed to be the millionth corner. _Why must it have over two-hundred hallways?_ he thought crossly.

He might have gotten lost. But in his defense, he'd always had a rather bad sense of direction. The fact that almost every hallway looked the same didn't help his case, either.

But he finally found his way to the waiting area, where he'd previously seen a water dispenser sitting in the corner. The rather tiny area was empty and quiet, except for the receptionist typing away in her booth. Matthew tried not to make too much noise as he made his way to the water dispenser.

There was a stack of plastic cups - ones that were about the size of his thumb, Matthew thought with an amused smile. He had just finished filling it with water when he heard a familiar voice speak: "I am here to see Toris Laurinaitis."

A voice inside of his head screamed at him not to turn around, and he probably should have listened to it, but his curiosity won. He surreptitiously glanced behind his back.

A man was standing in front of the receptionist's booth. As if feeling Matthew's stare, he turned around, violet eyes quickly meeting Matthew's own.

Matthew made a surprised noise at the back of his throat. _What is _he_ doing here?_ He willed himself to move, and had taken a step when the violet-eyed man spoke. "So we meet again, little Matvey."

That caught him off-guard. How did he know his name? "I-I think you have mistaken me for someone else," Matthew squeaked, eyes darting back and forth for a way to escape. The man was ever-so subtly moving closer. Surely he wouldn't try anything with the receptionist right there...

"I do not believe we properly met last time." He was wearing a scarf now. _What?_ Matthew thought. _Wearing it to hide all those scratches I gave him years ago? God, I hope they never healed. I hope that they'll someday see what a sick _bastard_ you are-_

A large hand was stretched out in Matthew's direction. "My name is Ivan Braginsky," the man said, smiling. He looked innocent, but Matthew knew otherwise.

Matthew didn't take the hand, afraid that he would be pulled away like last time. And then he was thirteen again, in that awful alleyway, pinned against the wall; he was feeling that hand creep up his shirt and farther even though he said no over and over and over and-

"Matthew, there you are!" In his peripheral vision, Matthew saw Arthur stop a few feet away.

Ivan gave the Canadian one last smile before he walked out of the area.

"Matthew? Are you all right?" asked Arthur. He stepped closer to the other boy, noticing the way Matthew's shoulders were trembling.

"I'm okay," Matthew lied. He glanced down at the cup of water, sighing in relief when he hadn't spilled any. He tended to drop things when he was nervous. "I'm going to take this back to Al." He skirted around the Englishman, still trying to calm his jittery nerves.

He made it halfway down a hall when Arthur caught up to him. "It's obvious that you're not okay," Arthur said. He grabbed Matthew's elbow, forcing the other to face him. "Did you know that man?" he continued, ignoring Matthew's glare.

"No," Matthew replied curtly. He finally reached Alfred's room and wrenched the door open, the cup in his hands spilling slightly. "Here you go, Al."

Alfred smiled gratefully at him, blue eyes flicking curiously over to Arthur for a few seconds. "So...did anything happen?" he asked over the rim of the plastic cup. If he couldn't have Matthew, then the least he could do was nose into their relationship as often as he could. That was what he reasoned, anyway.

Arthur seemed to choke on his own spit and coughed violently. Matthew raised an eyebrow. "No," he said slowly. "Why?" He looked to Arthur, frowning.

"It's nothing," Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Then the door opened and in came Alfred and Matthew's mothers, followed by the doctor. The two women rushed to their respective sons almost immediately, making Arthur feel a little awkward standing there.

"Alfred, I can't believe you actually fell off a building," Mrs. Jones scolded; her eyes were soft.

"Boys will be boys, Emily." Mrs. Williams sighed. "I'm just glad that Alfred looks okay."

Mrs. Jones nodded. She pressed a kiss to Alfred's forehead, to which Alfred pretended to stick his tongue out before dissolving into giggles when his mother pinched his cheek. (Yes, Alfred F. Jones was secretly a momma's boy.)

"Oh!" Mrs. Williams finally noticed Arthur standing by the door. "And who might this be?"

"Arthur Kirkland." Arthur stuck his hand out for a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Williams."

Mrs. Williams giggled, shaking the younger's hand. "I like him," she whispered loudly to Matthew, who groaned and buried his face into his hands.

"Well, then, you two boys can head out, if you want," Mrs. Jones said, her own smile wide on her face. "Madeline and I will call you once Alfred's finished here."

With a nod, Mrs. Williams put in, "I can't imagine how much you've been through today."

_No_, Matthew silently agreed. _You probably can't. _But he really didn't want to go somewhere with Arthur - he wasn't as angry as he'd initally been, but the anger was there. And he didn't trust him as much as he used to...

"We can go to that diner," Arthur suggested. Matthew assumed that he meant the one they went on their first date together. _Okay, now he just wants to mock me._

He opened his mouth to refuse(politely, of course), when Alfred cut in, "Seriously, Mattie. Go with him." He looked excited for something unknown to Matthew. And he looked a little sad, too. Matthew was starting to regret leaving him and Arthur alone earlier.

"But I have homework," he said.

"That's what you said the first time we went there," said Arthur coolly. "Though if that really is the case, I suppose it's not right for me to stand in the way of your studies."

Mrs. Williams shot her son The Look, which silently conveyed, _"Matthew Williams, if you do not go with him I will _not_ hesitate to cut off your supply of real maple syrup."_

Matthew had gotten that look very few times, and in those times he learned to never, ever underestimate mothers and the power they had over their children.

Ugh. Women.

"Fine," he acquiesced reluctantly.

**. . .**

"Who are you?" Matthew demanded once they were outside of the hospital.

Arthur merely raised a brow at the strange question, not stopping in his brisk pace towards his car.

"I mean it. I want to know." Matthew was in front of him, blocking his path. "You're kind of a jerk with Alfred, yet you're a complete gentleman around parents. Sometimes you act like you're some former delinquent, and sometimes you write sappy love letters. You'd save someone from a traumatizing experience, but you'd also be willing to date someone for the sake of covering up a mistake."

"You won't answer any of _my_ questions," Arthur countered. "Why should I answer yours?" It was a cheap blow, but he was impatient for answers and if this was going to get him some, so be it.

Matthew sighed. "Fine, then." He stomped over to the passenger's side of the car, opening the door and climbing in.

Arthur slipped into his own respective seat, inserting the key into the ignition. The car roared to life. Matthew was pouting, staring defiantly at something outside of the car.

They were two blocks away from the hospital when Arthur caved in. "I act in a way that I think would please the person I'm talking to," he said. "With a few exceptions, the example being Alfred. There are people who just annoy me without trying."

"Alfred's not that annoying," Matthew defended. "And did you think that by acting like you liked me back would _please_ me?"

"Yes," Arthur replied. "And it did. Would you rather I hurt you?"

Matthew's shoulders slumped and he went slack against the window. Out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he saw the boy staring forlornly ahead. "Better than finding out a few days later that the letter was never meant for me," he muttered.

Arthur eased the car to a halt at a red light. He massaged his temples. "Look," he began patiently. "Disregard everything I said to you in the past five minutes. Right now, I'm not kind of a jerk, I'm not a complete gentleman, and I'm not a former delinquent." He looked straight into Matthew's eyes. "Alfred told me that you never once stopped loving me." He ignored the way Matthew's eyes widened and pressed on, "That's why I decided that for the rest of today, I'm just a boy taking you out on a date. A boy who also hopes that he can have a second chance." He shot him a fairly hopeful smile. "Is that all right with you?"

"Honestly, it's a no to that last part," Matthew answered. Arthur's eyebrows went up in surprise. A smile curved Matthew's lips. "But...a date sounds pretty good."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just wait. There's more of Ivan to come...

PostScript: AH, WE ACTUALLY REACHED 100 REVIEWS! Honestly, I thought it would happen in the next 1-2 chapters, but I underestimated you guys. You're all so awesome. ;_; 100th reviewer was Iwant2beAcookie, so congrats to them. ^^ Again, thank you to everyone who left and continues to leave reviews. I don't think I've ever been more supported in my life, haha.

PostPostScript: Look at Matthew and Alfred's moms' names. :)


	12. Chapter 12: Defying Gravity

**Ch. 12: Defying Gravity**

"How did he react? Tell me everything, da?" The tall Russian loomed over Toris, smile innocent with a malicious undertone to it.

"He had a friend. His name was Arthur, I think. I tried to run away from him, but he cornered me on the roof," Toris managed to say. He wished Feliks was here. Being alone with Ivan terrified him.

Ivan tilted his head curiously. "And what did you tell him?"

"N-Nothing!"

"If you are lying to me, you will be severely punished." Ivan chuckled, patting his side, where Toris knew he kept his pipe hidden underneath that thick coat.

He gulped. "I'm not lying! I didn't tell him anything! I was ready to jump off the roof when Matthew and his friend. They got distracted, so I was able to escape. I was trying to get back to my car when someone fell on me."

"Another boy, hm?" Ivan tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Was it Alfred? The one that Arthur likes?"

"Yes, and he looked a lot like Matthew." Toris shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to be anywhere but that place, doing such horrible things to Matthew. Ivan's threat washed back into his mind and he took a breath and continued, "I think they could be brothers."

"Brothers? Silly Toris, Matvey does not have any brothers. I would know."

"O-Of course, Ivan."

"So, we shall continue with the plan. Does Matvey know that the letter wasn't meant for him?"

"I think so... I saw him crying during that carnival, when I was taking pictures..."

"Does he know that it was meant for Alfred?"

"No," Toris said. He added, "I think," hoping that it would deter Ivan from his plan at least somewhat.

Ivan smiled. "Either way, what we have planned will work," he said darkly, chuckling again. "We'll wait a few days before we send the message to Alfred, da? Just until Matvey is ready to break under the harassment." He sounded almost gleeful. "But first we send the flier."

"Y-Yes, Ivan." Toris bowed his head to hide the shameful blush on his face.

"And when little Matvey finally sees Arthur with Alfred, he'll be so heartbroken. And not too long after that, he'll be going to our school, with me~"

Toris forced himself to nod in agreement. "I'll send the flier as soon as possible." _I'm so sorry, Matthew._

**. . .**

The diner was small and nondescript, just like the last time they were there. Matthew shuffled through the door - which Arthur held open for him - and scanned the room for an open booth. He slipped into the nearest one. Ironically, it was the same booth they sat in on their first date.

Matthew withheld a sigh. He tried to focus on the lovely smell coming from behind the counter. There was regret bubbling up in his throat, but he wasn't sure what he regretted.

The fact that Arthur looked so composed didn't help. Wasn't he affected by this? Matthew thought about that question hard, willing Arthur to hear it in his thoughts. Then he realized he'd been spending too much time with Alfred and just sighed and put his head down.

Arthur wouldn't lie again, would he?

"Are you okay, Matthew?" Arthur's voice brought him back to reality. The Englishman reached across the table and stroked his hair.

Matthew felt his cheeks go aflame at the gesture. "Not that my inner lovesick schoolboy self isn't happy, but...why are you doing this?"

"If I recall correctly," Arthur mused, a smile quirking his lips, "you said yourself that a date 'sounded pretty good.' "

"But you were the one who proposed the idea first," Matthew countered. "And I want to know why." He paused, before adding, "You're not doing this out of pity, are you? Because if you are..."

Arthur sighed. "Clearly, you've already forgotten the conversation that took place ten minutes ago," he said patiently. "I'm doing this because I want a second chance."

"The reason being...?" Matthew pressed.

"For God's sake, Matthew," Arthur muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose in slight annoyance. "Obviously, it's because I love you."

"No, you-"

"_Yes_, I do. I wish it took me less time to figure it out - then the drama could have been avoided. But I just realized it. I. Love. You."

There was a stunned silence. A waitress came up beside their table, a brunette with a notepad and pencil in hands. "May I take your order?" she asked, oblivious. Matthew wished he could be oblivious, too.

"A double-double, please," he mumbled; he wasn't very hungry. At the girl's confused look, he revised, "Coffee, I mean." She turned to ask Arthur next, and Matthew sat there, staring down at his hands, quiet.

The waitress finished scribbling into her notepad and walked away. Arthur said, "You don't believe me."

"Well," Matthew began. He searched for the right words to say, but gave up with a slump of his shoulders. "No, I don't."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. "Well, you agreed to come here with me, didn't you?" he questioned.

"First of all, I was forced." Matthew pouted, something that made Arthur's heart thump just a little quicker. "And second, that doesn't mean anything."

"You didn't even deny me calling it a 'date,' " Arthur said.

"Stop sounding so cocky," Matthew said sourly.

To which Arthur replied, "I'm not being cocky, I'm trying to convince you that I love you."

Matthew blushed, and Arthur was going to ask if he wanted him to kiss him to prove it, but then the waitress came back with their orders, so Arthur just cursed under his breath.

Nibbling on the muffin he'd ordered, he watched Matthew demurely take a sip of the coffee. "I'll kiss you, if you want," he offered, because at that point he would give for anything to Matthew to believe him.

Matthew coughed violently, nearly choking on his coffee. He set the cup down, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. "N-No, no need to do that," he said in between hacks. His throat was burning but the warmth that was spreading in his chest overpowered it.

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. Matthew gaped at him for a few seconds, until he dissolved into a fit of giggles as well despite the situation. He found himself smiling as he regained his composure. "Who was the letter for, originally?" he said.

"The letter?" Arthur looked surprised at the question, the smile fading slightly from his lips.

"Tell me. I won't get mad," Matthew promised softly. He shot him an encouraging look.

A heartbeat. "...Alfred," Arthur said. "I meant to give it to Alfred at first."

"I see." Matthew was still smiling. "Then I guess I believe you."

Arthur blinked and almost dropped his muffin. The words slowly processed in his brain. "Was that a test?" he asked. It was one of the few moments in his life where he was almost speechless.

"No," Matthew admitted. "But if you had a choice between Alfred and me, and for some reason you chose me..."

"Poppycock," Arthur scoffed. "You're a wonderful boy, so don't go on saying that with such surprise in your tone." Then he softened and reached for Matthew's hands, intertwining them.

"Does Alfred know?" Matthew asked, desperately trying not to smile joyously at the simple act.

Arthur chuckled a little. "I thought it would be a little awkward to bring it up at that time," he confessed abashedly. "He gave you up to me, you know."

Matthew made a face. "I don't know where he gets the idea that I'm his to give away," he said. "Oh, Alfred..." He truly wished that he could love Alfred the way the American loved him, but he only ever saw him as a brother.

"He's accepted it, I think. Accepted us," Arthur said, interrupting his thoughts.

Matthew nodded in agreement. They sat in comfortable silence together, Matthew finishing his coffee and Arthur eating the last bits of muffin. Later, as they walked out of the diner, Arthur swiftly placed a kiss on Matthew's cheek.

The Canadian blushed.

Arthur just smiled. It looked like for once, things would actually go smoothly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** My life suddenly got busy. Sheesh, I thought summer was for relaxing? -_-

I want to finish writing _A Pirate's Life for Me_ so bad, but I'm so sleeeeppyyy~


	13. Chapter 13: Good Life

**Chapter 13: Good Life**

"So," Alfred began. He sounded semi-casual, which Matthew learned from experience meant that he was about to pry into something.

Matthew groaned. "If you weren't injured right now, I would kick you," he warned half-heartedly.

"Oh, please." Alfred rolled his eyes and batted at Matthew with his good arm. "You can't be threatening at all, Mattie." At Matthew's murderous glare, he added, voice meek, "I say with love...?"

"Do you want another broken arm?" Arthur asked flippantly from where he was sitting on the windowsill. He had a hand steadying himself in place, the other reaching down to stroke Matthew's hair. His newly renounced boyfriend didn't seem to mind, leaning into his touch.

Alfred was sitting next to Matthew. He frowned up at Arthur. "Shut it, Eyebrows. You're in my room and you're also dating my best friend, so you need to be nice to me."

Matthew's eyes widened to the point that they started to resemble dinner plates. "W-Who says we're dating?" he said.

"Mattie." America turned and raised his hands to put them on either sides of the Canadian's cheeks. He proceeded to shake his friend's face from side to side. "He has a hand in your hair and you look like you're about to orgasm," he said bluntly.

"Alfred!" both Matthew and Arthur said at the same time. Matthew was blushing, and Arthur was seething.

"You don't go around say things like that, you wanker," Arthur chastised with a frown. He (hesitantly) untangled his fingers from Matthew's soft hair to hit Alfred on the back of the head.

"Don't hit me, you wanker," Alfred retorted, his voice high pitched in a mock-British accent. That earned him another hit, to which he replied in exclamation, "God damn it, that hurts!"

Matthew watched them, wondering whether it was right to be feeling amused. "Language," he reprimanded half-heartedly, the hints of a smile ghosting along his lips. He bit it back, knowing Alfred would just keep griping.

The situation really was strange, though. Matthew had never thought that he, Alfred, and Arthur could be in a room without having a fight break out.

Well, technically, they were fighting, but it wasn't anything like the incident on the roof. (For which Matthew was glad.)

"-right, Mattie?" Alfred was saying something, and honestly Matthew hadn't been listening.

But Alfred was known to whine whenever someone disagreed with him, so Matthew just nodded along and said, "Yeah, of course."

Then he realized that it might not have been the right answer, because Arthur's expression turned into one of mild surprised(albeit amused), and Alfred looked absolutely horrified. Before Matthew could question what had just happened, he was tackled by Alfred.

"Mattie!" the boisterous America shrieked as he proceeded to smother Matthew in a tight embrace. "Y-You're not a virgin anymore?"

It was hard, but Matthew managed to choke out, "W-What are you talking about?"

He was sure he was going to die of asphyxiation, but thankfully Arthur pried Alfred off of him, and Matthew was able to breathe properly again. "What was that for?" he mumbled petulantly to his best friend.

"You've had sex with him?" Alfred kept on shouting.

"Belt up, you git, lest you want your parents to hear," Arthur hissed.

Alfred batted his arms away with a dismissed wave. "They're out getting groceries, but that doesn't matter right now. Matt." Here, he grabbed Matthew's shoulders and pulled him close. "You've had sex with him?" he asked, enunciating every word clearly.

Arthur groaned.

"I-I don't know w-what you're-" Matthew couldn't finish his sentence, blushing so badly he thought he would explode. He glanced to Arthur helplessly.

"Well, you shouldn't have answered 'yes,' love," the Englishman said pointedly.

"But I didn't even hear the question!" Matthew protested. He tried to wriggle out of Alfred's death grip and failed. "I just said yes because normally I agree with everything Al says!"

Arthur made a clicking noise at the back of his throat, shaking his head. "That's a rather bad habit, Matthew," he said.

Alfred finally unwrapped his arms from Matthew. "So...you're still pure?" He sounded very small. Matthew thought he also sounded embarrassed, but Alfred was hardly embarrassed about anything.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Al." He tried to keep the nasty bite out of his tone. "Why would you even ask that?"

"You really weren't listening, were you?" Alfred chuckled with a shake of his head. "We were arguing about who knew you better, and I was like, 'Well, it's not like you had sex with him or anything!-' "

"Al, why the heck would you say something like that in an argument?

"-and Arthur said, 'How would you know? It's none of your business!' so I turned to you and asked you, fully expecting a refusal, but instead, you agreed." Alfred ended his recounting with a small sigh. "You almost gave me a heart attack, Mattie."

"Sorry?" Matthew offered, because he really had no idea on what to say at that point. "Why would you care about my virginity, anyway?"

A small grin appeared on Alfred's face. His gaze flitted downwards. "You're my best friend. Of course I care." He always prided in his natural ability to lie.

Matthew looked wary for a moment. "Right," he muttered. "Just... Can you guys not talk about things like that? Especially if it's about me..."

"Why not?" came Alfred's whine.

"Alfred, how would you feel if you were standing a few feet away from your two best friends, knowing that they were talking about inappropriate things concerning you?" Matthew deadpanned.

"I'd be flattered," Alfred answered honestly.

"...Never mind." Matthew decided to leave it alone. He stood up from the floor, stretching, making sure not to hit Arthur. "So, where do I sleep?"

Alfred answered, "You can take the bed," at the same time Arthur announced, "In my lap."

Matthew turned to his boyfriend(ignoring the butterflies in his chest), stumbling over words. "A-Arthur? W-Why would I-"

"I wasn't serious," Arthur said. He smirked. "Unless, of course, you want to sleep in my lap."

Matthew pressed his lips together tightly, refusing to answer because:

a) He would probably just stutter again

b) He actually kind of wanted to sleep in Arthur's lap

"Get a room," Alfred complained.

"We're already in one," Arthur retorted.

Matthew sighed in resignation and said loudly, "I'll sleep on the floor."

. . .

Matthew woke up the next morning feeling warm. Not mentally, but physically.

It was probably because Alfred was clinging to him like a leech, again. Matthew wondered why he didn't just take the bed. The previous night, after a mild debate, Alfred had chosen to be on the floor with Matthew, and Arthur shrugged and said he'd take the bed("Even though it feels weird to be sleeping in someone else's bed," he mused).

Also, besides Alfred death grip on him, his left hand was raised up slightly, fingers tangled loosely with someone else's. He realized it was Arthur's, who had reached down and intertwined them.

He couldn't help but smile.

. . .

"The sleepover went well, I hope?" Mrs. Jones asked Matthew as he came down the stairs, dressed, with Arthur and Alfred tailing behind. "I really didn't mean to leave you kids for so long last night, but I got so caught up in-"

"Mom, we were fine," Alfred interrupted. He yawned loudly, scratching his head. "Iggy's just about to leave, and so's Matt."

His mother furrowed her eyebrows. "Iggy?" she echoed.

Arthur waved a hand, signaling his presence.

"Oh, you mean Arthur." She laughed. "Alfred, you and your nicknames..."

"Tell me about it," Arthur and Matthew mumbled simultaneously under their breaths. Alfred didn't notice.

"I'll see you at school?" Matthew said to Arthur once Mrs. Jones had left the room. Alfred was busy rummaging around the refrigerator for something to eat.

Arthur smiled crookedly. "Of course you will, pet." He placed a hand on the back of Matthew's head, drawing him close, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Last night was rather fun. I can't believe I'm saying this, but we should do it more often."

Matthew laughed. "Start coming over every Saturday, then," he teased. They walked together to the living room.

"I'm going to take that as an invitation." Arthur's eyes glinted - rather mischievously. "I'll try and call you tomorrow, all right?" he said, opening the door.

"Okay." Matthew tried not act as giddy as he felt. "See you, Arthur."

"Bye Iggy!" came Alfred's call from the kitchen.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly. "I'll see you two at school."

. . .

"Matthew, may I talk to you for a moment?" his mother asked the moment he stepped through the door.

"What is it, Mom?" Matthew inquired. He dropped his satchel of items from the sleepover and shuffled to the kitchen, where he saw his mother standing near the counter, looking distressed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, and then noticed the bright yellow paper she had in her hand. "Why do you...have that..." He felt the happiness drain away from him, replaced with worry and panic.

"I think the question is, Matthew," she said softly, "what is this?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. I know this update is very, very, very late. I have no excuse other than that I was busy preparing for school... Again, please don't hurt me!

I plan on updating all of my multi-chaptered fics before Wednesday, because that's when school starts for me. After that...everything will be hectic. =_=


	14. Chapter 14: Coming Undone

**Chapter 14: Coming Undone  
><strong>

The world seemed to stop, and it wasn't in a good way, either - Matthew honestly felt his heart sink as his mother held out the flier. It was wrinkled, as if it had been crumpled before but then smoothed out.

"What is this, Matthew?" she repeated. Her voice was soft yet firm at the same time.

"That...that..." Would there even be any point in lying? The word "SLUT" glared at him from the paper, and it was clearly him in both of the photos. "It was just a prank that someone pulled," he mumbled.

"A prank?" his mother questioned skeptically. "Matthew, when does a _prank_ ever include calling each other these...these..." She faltered, staring down at the flier again. "...names?"

Matthew bit his lip and stayed silent.

"Is someone harassing you again?" His mother set the flier down and walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Concern shone in her eyes. "Is it like...before? Please, sweetie. You can tell me."

The memories threatened to come rushing back. He willed them not to. "Of course not," he said, thinking of a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a scarf. "This school's a lot better than my old one. I've made lots of friends, eh."

"Does Alfred know about it?"

"Yeah. He and Arthur helped me deal with it." Matthew tried to appear nonchalant. "Not that it was a big deal or anything. It was just a prank, after all," he said, hoping that the lie would convince her.

His mother looked unimpressed, but she thankfully relented: "All right. But if anything like this happens again, you'll tell me. Understood?"

He nodded tightly.

Mrs. Williams sighed, drawing her son close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You know that I'm just trying to make sure you're safe, Matthew," she said into his hair as she stroked in comfortingly. "What happened to you wasn't fair, and I want to make sure that nothing like it ever happens again."

Despite his best attempts not to, Matthew saw images flashing in his mind: The white walls of the hospital, and afterwards, the gloominess of the police station.

"It won't happen again," he promised.

He never did find out what happened to Ivan Braginsky.

**. . .**

"This _so_ beats waiting for the bus," America crowed. In his hand, he was holding a milkshake from McDonald's.

"Uh, Arthur?" Matthew said, leaning forward to stage-whisper into the Englishman's ear. "I don't think it was a good idea to stop by McDonald's and get him that shake. You haven't seen him sugar-rushed in the mornings..."

Arthur cast a sideways glance at Alfred, who seemed too oblivious sipping away at his drink. "We can humor him a little bit," he said with a small smile. And he always had a soft spot for him, anyway.

"Hey!" Alfred exclaimed suddenly. "I can hear you guys, you know!"

"Yes, we know, Al."

"Ouch! You're mean, Mattie." He pouted. "I'm injured, can't you cut me some slack?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Alfred," he started as they turned into the high school's parking lot, "you've been using that as an excuse since you left the hospital." He eased the car into the nearest available parking space, which unfortunately happened to be...quite far in the back.

"Do you think everyone will still remember the fliers?" Matthew asked hesitantly. All three of them exited Arthur's car and began walking in the direction of the entrance.

"I think that the incident with Alfred falling off the roof will override it," Arthur said. He coughed, trying to hide his blush; he remembered the way he'd pushed Alfred off. The memory made him feel a little sick.

"Yeah, I think Artie's right," Alfred chirped. He didn't seem as bothered by it as Arthur. Or maybe he was just a good actor. "And if not, then I'll make a big deal about the accident and make sure they do!" He seemed elated at this idea, tossing his now-empty milkshake into a trash bin.

Matthew smiled. "I'm so glad I have you two," he said, tone slightly dazed. "I seriously don't know how I'd have made it this long without you guys." _Especially you, Arthur._

He had been the one to save him, after all.

"Dude," Alfred began, "that's so _gay_."

"Look who's talking," Arthur snapped, but he was smiling too.

They had just reached the front of the doors when Matthew realized that his shoulders were a little too light... "Oh!" he exclaimed, eyes wide. "I forgot my backpack in your car, Arthur." He shot the Englishman a sheepish gaze.

Arthur chuckled. "Relax, love. We can go retrieve it."

"But you might be late..." Matthew glanced down at his watch. "I'll just go run back to the car; I'll meet you in homeroom, okay?"

Arthur shrugged, fishing the car keys from his pocket and tossing it to his boyfriend. "Make sure _you're_ not late," he said.

Matthew caught the keys with minimal fumbling. "It's not like the teacher would notice my absence," he said softly. Then he turned and started heading back towards the car.

Arthur and Alfred both paused in front of the doors for a moment to watch him go. "Sometimes I want to bug his hoodie or something," Alfred spoke up with a sigh. "Seriously. He's too cute for his own good. It attracts rapists. Like Francis."

"Francis is his cousin, you idiot," Arthur retorted. He pushed past the doors and had enough courtesy to hold it open for the other boy.

"But seriously," Alfred protested, following. "It's already happened once. Who's to say it won't happen again?"

Arthur froze mid-step. "What?"

"Mattie didn't tell you?" Alfred frowned.

"No. So you should tell me."

Alfred looked indecisive. "Well, I think that Mattie should tell you on his own," he said slowly. "I mean, that kind of stuff helps couples get closer, right?" He laughed nervously and began to walk faster to his locker.

"You choose _now_ to be intuitive?" Arthur asked, exasperated. He hurried to catch up with the other. "I just found out that my boyfriend was once raped. I think I deserve to know more as soon as possible."

"He didn't get..." Alfred glanced around and lowered his voice, "_raped._ Just almost. Apparently some guy saved him before that damn rapist could do anything."

"He was saved?" That was a relief. Arthur could remember one occasion that he saved someone, himself. It had been a boy, and now that he thought about it, Matthew was starting to resemble...

"Hold on a minute." He stopped Alfred, who was beginning to put in his locker combination. "Did Matthew ever describe this...savior?"

Alfred shrugged. "Not really," he said. "Matt clams up about it whenever someone asks, so I just learned not to. I hate seeing that scared expression on his face."

_It's me,_ Arthur found himself thinking. He could remember the boy he'd saved now: Soft, wavy blond hair, frightened indigo eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. How could he have no realized it sooner? _I saved him._

**. . .**

"Oh shoot," Matthew mumbled as he attempted to find the right key for the car. "I'm gonna be so late..." He had just found the right one when suddenly, a dark shadow came looming over him.

He glanced up at the clouds, wondering if they'd covered the sun. It was when he turned that he realized it wasn't the clouds - it was a man.

_Those eyes... That scarf... _"Nice to see you again, da," Ivan Braginsky greeted. He sounded innocent, but there was something dark underlying his tone.

Matthew could feel himself shaking. Those _eyes_. They were the same purple ones that had haunted his nightmares to no end, and now he was facing them in reality. "I-Ivan," he squeaked, pressing himself farther against the car.

Ivan chuckled. "It is good to know that you remember my name," their eyes locked, "_Matvey._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** My New Year's Resolution is to get better at updating. Two stories updated in two days is good, right? Right? D:

I'm so sorry for the long wait. ; A ; I lost track of this story's plot for a moment...


End file.
